Vendetta (Revamped)
by Kiku No Tsuyu
Summary: The Joker isn't Gotham's only cold blooded killer. Esther Cain, the emissary of Fate, has walked the dark Gotham streets long before Batman or the Joker began their twisted games. Plagued by visions, hidden and lethal, she has kept the delicate balance between Order and Chaos. But the world is changing… and it's time to come out of the dark.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, only the OC is mine.**

**Warning: Vendetta is rated M for a reason: Strong violence and sexual situations. **

**The original version of Vendetta was my first attempt at writing fiction and though it was a very rewarding experience I have learned a lot since then and decided to revamp and polish the original story. I want to thank everyone who reviewed the original with both positive and negative feedback; it truly helped me grow as a writer. I would appreciate reviews on this new version and welcome any feedback you would like to share. Please enjoy!**

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**Chapter 1**

A break in the clouds allowed a thin sliver of moonlight to run over the blade Esther grasped lightly in deadly slender finger. The quick flash caught her eye and a small smile broke over her lips as she enjoyed the moment of solitude. Leaning against an aged brick wall, hidden in the shadows, booted toes tapped a silent rhythm. The air smelled fresh in this corner of Gotham, cool despite the season as Esther breathed in a deep cleansing breath and felt it, that essential impulse... the time had come.

A dark hooded sweatshirt concealed her features from view as Bobby Collins strutted right past her little patch of shadow. Swift gloved hands dart out and snatched the unsuspecting man straight into darkness. Before he could utter a sound Esther pressed him to his knees, pinning flailing arms with a practiced hold before quickly slicking her blade through his windpipe. The wound cut his vocal cords and would cause him to drown in his own blood but at a pace that would give him time to hear the recounting of his sins. As he shuddered in pain Esther griped her hand in his woolly brown hair and held back his head, forcing him to watch the woman he had been stalking for days, the woman he had come to rape, walk right by only a few feet away from where he fought silently for breath. Her masked lips brush his ear as she begins to whisper a complete narrative of each victim he had slaughtered, letting him know that one person knew exactly what kind of monster he was. The blade cut deeper through the jowls of his neck, tormenting him as he began to sputter and weep. Of all the men she had brought low over the years it was always the rapist that sobbed the most pathetically at death. A sign, Esther was sure, of the true cowards they were.

A cloud of misty blood erupted from his mouth as he desperately gasped for air. Over slow minutes he ceased to struggle as her icy blue eyes watched his face, observing his death as she had witnessed countless others before him. The wet suck of his last breath and the sudden limp weight of his body let her know her work was done. Dumping his corpse at her feet Esther leaned down and wiped her blade clean. Short on time she turned to leave, fading back into the shadows, silent as the dead man crumpled on the trash littered Gotham sidewalk. She had fulfilled her role perfectly.

Swiftly rushing through the dusky city streets she zipped in and out of the early evening traffic, dodging between cars as her motorcycle purred between her thighs. While stopped at a red light she turned her helmeted head toward a nearby newsstand and scanned the latest headlines: _Bank Heist:_ _The Joker Strikes Again_. Pulling onto the gum spotted sidewalk she grabbed the paper and read the story with earnest. The phrases: "all accomplices killed" and "perfectly planned," added to the infamy of Gotham's latest piece of trouble. She recognized Gotham National Bank, having been cut checks by mobsters for her service as an art dealer for years from that particular institution and smirked at the Joker gall.

Esther rarely heard snippets of information about the new character on the Gotham scene since his debut a year ago... but the little she had heard did not paint a picture of the mildly entertaining media exploits of a clever bank robber. The whispered stories that a few bad men had muttered to one another in the darker corners where the less savory chose to spend their free time painted a far more sinister picture. Until recently very few people had ever seen him, and those that had, well, they didn't talk much. The moniker, _The Joker_, was murmured cautiously as if speaking his name aloud would draw the enigma out of the shadows to carve you apart as his signature suggested. She could sense their stifled fear and heard tales so outlandish Esther knew they could hardly be true. But in the minds of the men she had found every rumor held a kernel of something honest. Their thoughts all matched in the assessment that the Joker was absolutely ruthless and completely insane.

And here he was on the front page again stealing millions from a mob bank in a scheme so brilliantly conducted that he walked out alone with the spoils; each sucker involved in the heist dead at his hands or one another's. Either the Joker was incredibly reckless and foolish or bent on something more underhanded than stirring up Gotham's underworld. It was intriguing, especially for a woman like her, a woman with unique gifts and an even more unique motivation.

Handing money to the vendor she bought both papers, jumped back on her bike, and sped home. Transforming from killer to Esther Cain, art dealer, was a rushed affair. After a quick shower deft fingers twisted and pinned her hair in a messy upsweep that would suit well enough considering the summer's more relaxed formal styles. After brushing back any small tendril that tried to escape she placed a deep purple rose in her pale blonde hair, rubbed her blood red lips together, and stepped into a clingy moonlight satin gown.

The split in her skirt bared a long leg as she leaned down to pull on her heels, cursing a little as she tripped on the length of fabric once the television caught her attention. The evening news began to report on the body of an unknown middle aged male found on Hyde Street. A small smile played on red lips as she turned to watch the reporter's account of the murder. The body may not have been identified yet but she was certain once the police realized just whose blood decorated sidewalk they would be happy to find that piece of shit dead. She had left Bobby Collins identification and his favorite murder weapon at the scene just for that purpose.

Earlier that afternoon Esther had been at lunch with a prospective client when the vision of that night's calling flashed rapidly through her mind. She played off the silent distracted moment as deep contemplation of the client's wishes, smiled warmly, and took another bite of her entree. The images had been gruesome. Vignettes of a sobbing woman as the much larger man sweated over her, the hunting knife pressed to her bleeding throat as he came, and the signature stab to the heart Bobby left all his toys with. The vision was not shocking, nor did it upset Esther… After a lifetime of such premonitions it was second nature. She smiled at her client when it was finished and took another bite of lunch, her swordfish tasted divine.

Distracting her from the news report her phone rang signaling her cab had arrived. Esther turned toward the vanity for one last look. Despite the softly flowing dress and elegant makeup she radiated an unapproachable quality; it was there in the set of her mouth. This was not an event she was attending for the pleasure of the company. Esther tended to brush off any personal interaction with her clients outside of a business setting, especially with slimy halfwit gangsters like the rotund Anthony Paladino, but the landscape of the city had been shifting and Esther felt compelled to keep a closer eye on the working of Gotham's underworld.

Since the emergence of Batman and the _Night of Terror_ about a year ago things had been changing… delicate balances shifting. In response, Esther held her ear to the ground and kept up with the bloody pulse of the city, carefully watching the subtle shift in power. If her intuition was correct tonight a collection of select Gotham gangsters, wealthy business people, and a few of the clueless trust fund idiots would rub elbows at Anthony Paladino's residence admiring his newly acquired painting and feeling smug. A short evening listening to the whispered conversations of respected foolish Gotham citizens willing to hobnob with the flamboyant gangster should be informative.

As the art dealer who had acquired Paladino's new baby, a larger than life painting by a well-known and highly overrated Chechnyan artist, Esther was certainly on the guest list. The mid to high level gangster liked to buy art that made him look smart… important. Art that Esther had to admit was mostly hideous. But she had heard a rumor that Mr. Paladino was in possession of an obscure painting she had coveted for years and if that was true she would not regret her attendance for a moment if it meant she might get a peek at it.

The taxi pulled up to a large house in one of High Town's more tasteful neighborhoods. Two well-dressed burly men stood guard at the door, opening them wide to drench her in soft light. Once inside a waiter offered her a glass of champagne and directed her toward the rooms where the party was underway. The revelry was in full swing but the host was nowhere to be seen. Nodding to a few of her past or present clients Esther made the obligatory greetings and slipped quietly away from conversation to inspect Paladino's collection. Remarking to herself how odd it was that none of his fellow gangsters seemed to be in attendance.

Walking through his bizarre collection she sipped her champagne and enjoyed the string quartet playing softly in the corner. Loud artwork blended badly with a few pieces Esther actually appreciated. Men and women dressed in elegant attire stood about the lavish set up speaking softly and snacking on expensive hors d'oeuvre. Glancing at the content guests Esther wondered how many of them knew what Mr. Paladino really did for a living... most, doubtlessly. Wealthy Gothamites were inclined to believe it was quite sophisticated to hobnob with well-known gangsters, a clear indication of the deep corruption that permeated the city.

Esther set down her empty glass and moved through the chatting guests in search of the one painting she deeply hoped was in the room. She could not repress a smile when the crowd shifted enough for her to glimpse the quick flash of red... it was hard to miss. Approaching with reverence she was surprised to find the canvas larger than she had expected, the largest of this artist's work she'd discovered yet. The painter was unknown, preferring anonymity, but Esther was a huge fan of their expression. There was never a signature, but the style, the absolute strangeness, always showed in each piece. A twisted mess of white, red, and black attacked the huge canvas hanging before her. It was pure chaos… almost, something was not quite right about the work and Esther lost herself in the piece trying to discover what made it wrong. Even so she immediately loved the painting, wanting it for her own.

As was her habit when it came to art she grew engrossed, so drawn in that Esther failed to notice the sudden silence that descended upon the room. As if from far away, she heard a man speaking in a gruff booming voice. He sounded demanding one second and jovial the next, oddly balanced yet unnatural. A small fragment of her mind imagined that strange noise complimented the painting. Knocking her out of her stupor people began rushing around the room jostling her in their movements. Annoyed at the disruption she glanced from the corner of her eye to find the well-dressed party goers backing up against the walls, limbs drawn in as if trying to disappear inside themselves.

Pale features turned over her shoulder in the rush of bodies, eyes narrowed as she searched for the cause of the disruption. Brows drawn together she scanned the room and found it full of armed goons with assorted painted clown masks pulled over their faces, shouting as they corralled the group back against the walls. The press of party guest shoved her back but in the mayhem Esther's body was thrust forward as if to shield the man crouched behind her... so much for chivalry.

Once the group had been subdued and the stage was set to his liking the cause of the chaos himself stepped further into the room, directly into her view. Icy blue eyes drank in the tall bent visage of the infamous Joker as he looked over the masses with an expression akin to disgust.

How strange and bizarrely thrilling to finally see the whispered myth himself. The expression under the vivid skull like paint was angry despite the false smile on the Joker's red painted Glasgow grin. White greasepaint covered his face to the jaw, dark eyes rimmed in smears of black... all simply the backdrop to those vividly red painted scars. She has seen photo of him in the paper, was familiar with his disfigurement, but found them far more intriguing in person. Carved into each cheek was the parody of a smile, his signature worn with garish pride.

Worn brown loafers, dark purple pinstripe trousers, and deep green waistcoat over his bizarre hexagonal blue shirt tied together in an oddly appealing way. Knotted neatly at his throat sat an olive green patterned tie. All this was covered in a well-made, though grungy, purple overcoat. Esther glimpsed the flash of a gold watch fob and watched the swing of it with each step as he walked with a dangerous smirk amongst the guests. Aside from the makeup smeared all over his face the clothing was interesting and oddly sinister for such engaging colors... and it was easy to understand why. The man radiated menace, as if he saturated the air with the promise of madness and a slow screaming death. Everything, every part of his appearance was intended to intimidate, confuse, and cause fear.

Sucking his teeth and glancing side to side he stopped his loud aggressive steps and suddenly halted. The macabre painted face broke into a wide toothy grin before the man himself began to speak in a deceptively playful nasal singsong, "Like I said... where is the host of this, ah, _tacky_ little soiree?"

If the rumors she had heard of this clown were even fractionally true Paladino was a dead man. Esther watched him move through the cowering socialites, poking and prodding several terrified guests as he demanded an explanation in gruff low growls of sound. Intimidation his true weapon and he wielded with expert finesse. Their eyes met briefly and in a fraction of a second the Joker dismissed her to pester the next guest.

Reaching out with her senses Esther brushed the painted enigma's mind to see what secrets she could learn and almost raised a brow when she recognized there was nothing, a vast emptiness beyond her sight. Unlike the unhinged distorted minds of his followers she could not even glimpse a fragment of the Joker's psyche.

Filled with sudden bravado the very man who had pushed her as a shield before him stepped forward once the clown passed and shouted, "What the hell are you doing here? Don't you know whose house this is?"

The Joker raised an eyebrow to him and walked over with a hungry grin. Gesturing innocently at his chest he explained in a friendly voice, "I doooooo." A switch happened and the momentary lightness he portrayed grew thick with low grating menace. "Hence the reason I keep asking for the host. of. the. party." Each of the final words were overpronounced, a trick to keep the eye on his face and not on the hand that had just reached into a pocket to withdraw a knife. The switchblade released in a familiar hiss of sound catching the foolish man's attention right when the Joker wanted it to.

Three oddly smooth steps later and the Joker was face to face with the would-be rebel. A purple gloved hand darted forward faster than Esther's eyes could follow, grabbing the startled fool by the neck. The shinning blade was between the man's thin lips and his bravado faded to terror.

"Tell you what chum, if you tell me where the, ah, fat lump issss I _won't _cut out your tongue." So close Esther could see the intense pleasure it gave him. From the crinkle at the corner of his eyes to the slow indrawn breath, the Joker enjoyed every moment of anticipation before he fulfilled his offer.

The man mumbled around the blade what sounded like a muffled "I don't know." And the Joker gave an amused snort of breath. He kept his word, he did cut out a portion of the man's tongue with an arch his hand, followed by slicing a crooked Glasgow smile in two flashes of movement. Stepping back the Joker assessed his work, lips pursed as if he thought he could have done better, an artist before his canvas.

Choking throat noises of pain magnified the horrific loose hanging jaw as the screaming man reached up instinctively to hold his face back together. It was not long before the fool crumpled to a twitching heap on the floor. A woman screamed and the crowed began to panic backing away from the screaming nightmare. Esther watched the pool of blood spread slowly around the spilt smile of the tortured man's twitchy figure and thought back to a few of her more theatric murders.

Looking up from the carnage she found the Joker right where he was before, grinning madly at the only person to not back away in fear at his little performance. He was so close she could smell the lingering scent of explosives that clung to his dusty purple overcoat and saw each crease in his painted face.

Movement out of the corner of her eye caused her to glance at the door just as two goons carried in a crude bomb. A tall thin man with pretty fingers checked that everything was in working order before stepping back to take position with the rest of the Joker's team. A bomb complicated things… This was not her night to die and large icy blue eyes darted back toward black. Esther still had one more life she was sworn to collect and the clown was not going to take her revenge away. She began to calculate the best exit strategy and recognized that a man who killed so ostentatiously desired the story to be told. The Joker wanted to be feared… fed off the notoriety... There would be survivors and she would make certain she was one of them.

He had seen the subtle shift of expression on her face and where there should have been fear instead she had shown annoyance. Smacking his lips loudly he measured the vicious hidden look in her eyes and found it downright enthralling. He saw it there, dangerous anger behind her oddly colored glacial eyes and the low threat of one predator to another. _You stay out of my way and I will stay out of yours… _

Lowering his chin to his chest the Joker's grin faded to a smirk and the black eyes glowed; he knew a killer when he saw one. Now the night was fun. Giggling a little he took a jaunty step closer.

"Hello Princess-sa," the Joker leered as he flicked back his greasy green hair in a caricature of primping.

Darting black eyes ran over her features, lingering on her blood red lips until they found something even better. He twisted his scars up into a creepy distortion of joy and his black smeared eyes lit up with delight at the dark purple rose blooming in her hair. Like lightening his fingers snatched the flower from her hair and shoved it in into his lapel pocket with a smirk. She refused to react like he clearly wanted her to. Still as stone she simply waited, sensing that patience would serve her.

She was right. The Joker took a step back, waving his knife at the crowd as he spoke, "Don't let me interrupt your little shindig! By all means…. Puuuulease continue." He grinned madly rolling his eyes back. When no one made a move he licked his scars in aggravation and turned to the musicians. "I thought this was a party. Where's the MUSIC!"

With a goon's submachine gun automatically trained on the scared shitless string quartet the musicians lifted their bows and began to play. The notes, thin and awkward, were even more unsettling than the silence. Despite herself Esther chuckled softly under her breath at the shaky waltz, imagining the musicians' expressions as they tried to hold their instruments and not piss themselves.

Narrowing his eyes he licked his lips, excitedly tonging his scars at her little slip of laughter.

"I'm in the, ah, mood for a dance." He growled in a low animal noise. With the red Glasgow grin larger than ever his hands shot out and grabbed her in a rough embrace. Mockingly waltzing, the Joker's steps were too large, forcing her to trip around as he laughed at her cocked eyebrow and began to hum his own strange tune. He held her too close; purposefully bruising her while gloved hand pressed his knife's blade flat against her exposed back, nicking just enough to cut her badly should she try to pull away.

The oddest feeling of familiarity crossed Esther's mind as she stared up into the creased painted face of the Joker and an impressed smirk lightly bent up the corners of her own lips as she beheld a true painting of chaos.

Chaos? Esther's mind drifted as inevitably her eyes turned back toward the anarchic painting. One moment she had been actually smiling at him then he had lost her attention. Like a petulant child, the Joker turned his head with a scowl, ready break whatever or whoever had caught her notice. He saw the painting and stopped their dance, holding her smashed awkwardly against his tall frame as he ran his eyes over the canvas.

Suddenly Mr. Paladino's booming voice shouted from the doorway. "What the FUCK is going on in here?"

"Thank you for the LOV-ley dance." Black eyes darted in their sockets to peek down at the pale blonde oddity. "but-tah, we'll have to continue it at another time." Suddenly bored he twisted Esther in his grasp and rudely shoved her into the arms of one of his goons. The air whooshed out of her lungs as she ended up with her back pressed against a roughly muscled giant of a man. A hairy arm grasped her around the waist, holding her firmly against the front of his body.

"Well, hello Tony," cackled the Joker. "Glad to see you finally showed up to your own party! I have been just die-ing to see you again."

Paladino's eyes grew wide with fear when he saw just who was walking toward him. Before he could utter a phrase the Joker's gestured with his hand and his goons rushed forward to knocked that fat gangster to his knees.

"Any parting words for your guests?" The Joker asked continuing without waiting for an answer, "No? Good. I have wasted enough time here. Don't you know punc-tu-al-it-ty is IMORTANT and we have so many things to do!" The words ended on a low excited hiss.

In moments Paladino was bound and emitting strange gurgling sounds muffled by the duct tape wrapped around his head and mouth. Two goons dragged the terrified man from the room as he struggled, eyes pleading for help. Not one soul made a move to save him.

Without a word the Joker began to walk toward the door, goons following like obedient dogs. Esther eyeballed the bomb and tried not to gag as the prime piece of grossness behind her groped her breast before attempting to hoist her up, clearly intent on taken her with him. Knowing his intention, is lurid thoughts quite clear, Esther acted. An enraged snarl tore from her lip as he began to drag her toward the door with the other clowns. The Joker spun around at that wonderful noise just in time to see Esther's left foot stab the stiletto of her shoe into the man's instep. His howl of pain made her smile as she swung her head back, knocking him in the nose with the back of her skull... In reaction he cruelly tightened his fingers around her neck, spinning her around to viciously slam her head into the wall.

Spots danced before her eyes but ignoring the pain Esther forced a state of focus. One meaty hand squeezed her neck as his fist balled, pulling back in preparation of a powerful blow. Swiftly, she raised her arms, twisting her body as far as she could to the left, coiled her fingers together, and expertly elbowed the man in the face. His fist only grazed her shoulder as her elbow shattered his nose with a loud crack, blood shooting across her as his gripped tightened in shock.

She drew in a painful gasping breath, rising up her claws while he was distracted. Like lightning her thumb nails jabbed through his nylon mask, pulping the jelly of his eyes. Ghastly screams filled the air as she twisted her thumbs deeper, blinding him ruthlessly. In his agony his huge hands released her neck dropping her as he shrieked and reached toward the pits of his skull in shocked horror.

The goon tripped and began to thrash around on the floor, legs kicking wildly at the air. Esther scrambled away clumsily, caught in the fabric of her skirt she slipped in the mixture of blood and sticky eye matter on her hands. Pulling in breath through her swelling throat she braced to stand a second too late. The kicking goon's booted foot made contact with her temple, knocking her head back with a sickening thud against the wall. Her hair came loose and blood began to pour from a gash on the back of her head. She blinked gummily, tried to sit up, and failing dismally.

The Joker danced forward in his delight at the show. Kicking his worthless goon roughly he guffawed hoarsely with each harsh strike of his foot. "AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!" Panting, the Joker lifted a Glock from his pocket and shot the pathetically sobbing goon in the face. With a sinister glow in his eye he turned to watch the dazed woman sprawled like a ragdoll on the floor. The last thing she saw before she passed out was two bloody brown loafers approaching her head.

He grinned wickedly down at her, eyes sparkling, sweat dripping from his brow as he exclaimed, "Now _that_ was quite a show!"

The Joker considered the bloody woman lying at his feet for a moment then scooped her up in his arms and tossed her like a sack over his shoulder. Glancing up he realized that she had collapsed below the painting that had captivated her earlier. He liked it… the red, black and white violent strokes were so… pretty. Gesturing with his hand, he yelled at his goons to throw the painting in the van. It would be a little souvenir to remember this fantastic night. His men ripped the artwork from the wall as the Joker cheerfully walked through the party, humming loudly as he made his way to the door.

Looking back at the room of traumatized party goers he made his farewell and gave them a friendly warning. "I will give you to the count of ten," he mocked pulling a detonator out of his pocket and waving it before the crowed.

The sheep just stared. He shrugged his shoulders, bored again, and stepped out the door. "One."

Nothing.

"Two." He yelled playfully as his foot hit the sidewalk.

Screams began inside as the mob all tried to push out the door at the same time.

The next numbers rushed out of his mouth so fast they blurred into one stunted hurried sound, "three-four-five-six-seven-eight-nine-ten."

His thumb brushed the detonator and with a smile of sheer evil he pressed the red button. Behind him the bomb exploded beautifully. A bracing burst of heat and flaming debris flew over him, blending the sound of the explosion with the perfect sound of pained screams. Turning to face his latest masterpiece he jostled Esther's limp body, resettling her weight on his shoulder.

Men and woman were running, staggering, or crawling away from the burning building. By his calculation at least half had made it out. That was pretty generous he thought with a low laugh. Enough, he had things to do. Turning back toward his van he began to cross through the madness. He considered the woman on his shoulder and glanced at her rump as he chewed his scars. She had been funny, quite the violent little thing. As he debated on the best thing to do with her a black blur plummeted to the ground before him.

The night getting even better! "Were you invited to this party too?" the Joker teased in a raspy singsong. "Pity you didn't show up earlier." The Jokers tongue darted out over his lips as he met the eyes of his new favorite toy.

Batman's eyes flew immediately to the bleeding woman dangling from the Joker's hunched shoulders. "Put her down!" the baritone threat grated in a low growl.

"I saw her first!" The clown teased patting the limp woman's bottom.

The Joker backed away slowly, grinning as he pretended to drop her making the Dark Knight jump one direction before the clown threw her limp body the other way... straight toward the burning building with a mad cackle of, "CATCH!"

Hanging from the open van door the Joker screamed with laughter at Batman's fumbling attempts to catch the strange woman, knowing deep down that she was not exactly an innocent civilian and wondering just what she really was under all the pretty skin. Butcher? Baker? Candlestick maker? Butcher most likely...

Once in Batman's awkward hold Esther's eyes flew open, bright and wild. Her arm snaked around his neck pulling his ear to her lips. She spoke low and coarse as she whispered to him. Whatever the words, they cause a reaction. Batman pulled away, eyes wide in alarmed. The masked man looked hard at her face and almost felt relief when her terrifying icy blue eyes rolled back in her skull. The Joker's sharp attention had seen the whole thing as the van speed away and had to wonder just what one little girl could say to put fear on the face of the Bat Man.

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**Thank you for reading. Please Review and make my day.**

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	2. Chapter 2

**I was so thrilled to see the two reviews from great supporters of the V-Series! Thank you so much for making the effort worthwhile hannahhobnob and ChidorixCixBritannia!**

**For all those who followed or favorited right off the bat I wish I would hug you! Please leave a short review to let me know if you like the slightly altered version.**

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**Chapter 2**

An unplaceable shuffling noise and a painful throb at the back of her skull lured Esther out of her dream world. The rhythmic hum of hospital machinery caught her attention matching the banging sensation in her head. Groaning she knit her brows together and tried to master the pulsing throb of pain blooming brighter at her miniscule movements. Forgetting the bruised muscles of her throat she swallowed, then let out a low irritated growl at the discomfort. The nearby noise stopped and with a quick inhale of breath Esther gummily opened her eyes. The shuffling noise began again. Esther looked toward the sound and saw the silhouette of a nurse standing in a pert uniform thumbing through her chart while darting glances at the television.

The darkness of the room was only relieved by the glow of the silently flashing news. Squinting to read the words bannered across the top of the screen Esther made out: _Joker bombs residence in the Heights, 27 people killed, 14 injured. _The report filled the screen with shots of the fire department dousing Paladino's flaming house before cutting to a woman's eyewitness interview. The middle aged brunette wrapped in a blanket was flailing her arm wildly as she described the attack.

"Turn up the volume." Esther's voice sounded like sandpaper. Another painful swallow. "Please."

The shadowed nurse peered over their shoulder and cocked an eyebrow. After a shrug the woman stepped forward and pressed a button on the television, increasing the sound so Esther could hear it.

Watching the described debacle made her smirk. Had these people been at the same party? Their recount of the events was over the top, playing up the Joker's infamy like dancing monkeys. He was getting exactly what he wanted. She let out a low caustic chuckle.

"Something funny?" The nurse murmured, back to her, still facing the screen.

"Yeah." Esther did not continue.

A few moments stretched by and the nurse turned to face her fully, white surgical mask glowing from the television's light as the chart was placed back at the base of her bed. The voice changed and grew low and all too familiar, "Weeeelllllll?"

Narrowing her eyes Esther's foggy mind thought she must be imagining that voice but the green tips of greasy hair were set aglow by the television's backlighting and even in the dark Esther could just about see the black heavily smeared paint like pits of tar around creased dark eyes.

With a growl of anger she moved her legs, trying to get up from the bed as he rushed forward, a savage smile in his eyes. A foot shot out to kick him in the chest but was knocked aside with a look that made it clear he expected better from her. Her other leg shot out, upsetting her awkward balance but caught him in the gut. Even so he seemed oblivious to the pain and sharp grunt of breath as naked hands descended to grasp her. Splayed on the mattress, half hanging off and with one leg twisted around the narrow waist of his nurses dress Esther was subdued in seconds. Baring her teeth one hand found purchase and darted forward, fingers clawing his throat, ready to push him away and continue her attack. Her grip on his neck must have been uncomfortable but the Joker simply giggled darkly as he sat a hip on the mattress. With his body as leverage he pressed her down to the bed, restrained effectively as he leaned closer still.

"You got quite a little bump on the noggin Princess," he singsonged behind the surgical mask, stretching his neck out of her reach. "This might not be the best time to play."

Despite the discomfort she glared at him, struggling viciously to set her trapped limbs free. "Get off!"

"Shhhushhhh shuhh shuhhhhhh." He muttered reaching into a pocket and withdrawing a syringe. She yelped as a needle stabbed into her shoulder then the Joker pushed the plunger, filling Esther with the warm effects of a powerful sedative. Her eyes lifted back to his as her pain begin to disappear into forced euphoria. One long hum of contentment fell from her lips as his body untangled from hers. Arms wrapped around her middle and tugged her up the mattress to lie comfortably back on the pillow. Her arms were posed at her sides and the disheveled ethereal blonde hair brushed back from her face as Esther fought to stay awake. Leaning back he surveyed his work and then, while noisily sucking his teeth glanced around the room. With a grunt the Joker snatched the cup of chocolate pudding from the food tray next to her bed, sniggered as she groggily tried to stop the theft. After putting her arm back where it belonged he got more comfortable on the mattress, pulled down the surgical mask, and ate her dessert as she tried to glare.

Pupils dilated so strongly Esther's eyes appeared as black as his her gaze was locked on paint smeared black in her drugged stupor until she fell into a deep slumber and thought she heard the words hummed eerily, "Good night Esther Cain."

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Groggy Esther woke to find two of Gotham's finest standing over her bed in the afternoon light. A middle aged cop with greying brown hair and a mustache stood side by side with a pretty baby-faced Latina woman. Pulling herself into a seated position, Lieutenant Gordon reached forward and helped her get comfortable on the inclined mattress.

"Thank you sir." The frog-like sound of her voice made her fingers reach toward her throat. Grimacing Esther did not need a mirror to know her neck was a lovely shade of black and blue.

Apologetically wincing at her apparent discomfort Lieutenant Gordon offered her his hand to shake in formal greeting. She took it and let her senses pour over him as he introduced himself. She could clearly see that he was a dedicated cop, a good man... one of the few people in Gotham fighting for order and justice. Looking into Gordon's mind was like reading an open book on principle and generosity; everything was there including the fact that he was perhaps just a bit too dedicated to Gotham at the cost of his own happiness. The warm smile she offered was genuine; it was not often she met someone new she was fond of immediately.

"Detective Ramirez," the long haired brunette announced offering her hand to shake next. This female was different. The woman was conflicted, torn between duty to her city and duty to her sick mother... and also desperately unhappy. It did not take long to see why, she was up to her ears with the new head of the Falcone crime family, Salvatore Maroni. For such a young thing it was a pity, once you were in there was no possible way to get out. Her corruption was a black mark that would follow her until her death, which given this city might be sooner than later.

This was a woman Esther would avoid. There was darkness in Detective Ramirez's future and it did not concern her. The woman had made her bed, now she would lie in it. Forcing a smile Esther responded in a horse whisper, "Nice to meet you both. How can I help you?"

"Ma'am we would like to ask you a few questions," Lieutenant Gordon smiled down at her with his engaging blue eyes.

In place of speaking she gave a nod of approval.

The kindly smiling man spoke in a soothing male grumble, "What can you tell us about the events last night?"

Disinteresting in having anything to do with Gotham's police Esther outlined a very bland representation of the evening. She gave no useful details, shared no personal impressions, and could see clearly that they had been hoping for more.

"Tell us about the altercation between you and your attacker," Gordon pressed.

She made a puzzled face and knit her brow together. "To be honest I don't recall much," she lied smoothly. "Someone grabbed me and I panicked."

The overzealous descriptions from eyewitnesses painted so many varying scenarios that Gordon did not really know what to make of it. Some stated she attacked first, maiming the man with skill. Others claimed she was shrieking and flailing about. Truth be told Esther was horrible disappointed in how badly she allowed one street thug to kick her ass. She should have been better, should have been able to peel him off her with little effort, even without her favorite blade in hand. Clearly she had overestimated her skill since she usually had her prey on their knees before they realized her blade was coming for them.

Randomly scratching her shoulder she felt a tender spot and her eyes darted down to find an obvious round shaped bruise. Images of the strange nurse from the night before broke through, bursting like water rushing out a busted dam and flooded her mind… The green glowing hair highlighted by the dim light of the television, being subdued with drugs, the long exacting look the Joker gave her after carefully arranging her back in the bed, and then that bastard eating her chocolate pudding.

Gordon misunderstood the reason for her pause and angry expression before he urged her on. "After your... altercation, witnesses report that the Joker himself carried you from the house before blowing it up. Batman arrived and, well, saved your life. Do have any memories of those events?"

Confused and tired Esther leaned back on her pillow, "You're telling me that the Joker carried me out of the house before he blew it up…? and Batman…" Her hands started rubbing the grit from her lashes. Something did not add up. It almost felt as if the Joker chose to save her from his own bomb... Batman came... then the Joker was back in her hospital room later. Yet here she was, still breathing, with nothing more than a small bruise on her arm to show for it. What did he want? Then she remembered his final words as she blacked out, _"Now that was quite a show!"_

Humming to herself she looked to the spot on the mattress he had sat for god only knows how long studying her with those flat black eyes.

"In light of the situation we would like to place you under Police protection," Lieutenant Gordon reassured her when her disturbed expression led him to believe they had made her afraid.

Esther pulled her hands from her eyes, the Joker had been in her hospital room last night and she was still alive. If he wanted to kill her she would be dead. She had reacted with aggression and all he did was laugh and put her to bed, curious black eyes watching her as he ate her pudding. "No, no that is not necessary Lieutenant Gor…"

"We, insist Ms. Cain. At least for a few days," he added gently, patting her hand to comfort her.

Until that moment Ramirez had been mostly silent. Chocolate brown eyes looked her over reading the blonde's demeanor in a very different way from her boss. "Why were you at Anthony Paladino's party Ms. Cain?"

"The party was a debut of Mr. Paladino's new Ramazanov painting. I am the art dealer he commissioned to acquire it," Esther answered tiredly.

"How _well_ do you know Mr. Paladino?" Ramirez asked, a slight insinuation hanging in her tone.

"Hardly at all, I have only met with him on a few occasions to discuss finalizing an acquisition. Most of our correspondence was over the phone or via email." Esther answered meeting Ramirez eyes a friendly smile on her lips. Truth was, Esther had known quite a bit about Anthony Paladino. Even as a child she had seen him lurk around the Chechen as he moved up the ranks... more than once she had even killed a few of his underlings when they got in her way.

After reading in the inside pocket of his jacket Lieutenant Gordon pulled out a card, pressing it into Esther's hand. "Thank you Ms. Cain. We'll let you get some rest. An officer will be here to escort you home shortly," Turning around at the door, "Please don't hesitate to call if you have questions or need anything."

* * *

True to their word for the next week she was consistently monitored by Gotham's finest. Armed cops followed her to work, business meetings... they practically followed her into the restroom. Much of her week had to be restricted to accommodate the constant surveillance and her usual nocturnal activities set aside until the farce was finished. A patient woman, Esther followed the rules and though polite to her officer-of-the-day was aloof and clearly unwilling to chat... especially with the large wheezing beat cop, officer Ramón, who sat outside her apartment door each night.

He had drawn her attention, not only for the suspicious way he watched her, but for the strange feeling she had near him. At first blush it was clear he did not like her any more than she liked him... in fact, Esther was especially wary of him. She could handle the constant wheezing through his upturned nose, ignored that he seemed to watch her with something beyond fascination, but was very suspicious of his motivation. When his meaty palm met hers in greeting Esther had tried to read him and found his mind to be far more of a mess than his orderly appearance suggested. Then he smirked at her, fat face creasing like he knew something he should not.

Even with the constant supervision Esther took it in stride; she understood how to slip away quickly and quietly whenever she felt the need to get some air or was sent a vision compelling her to claim a life. And as always she enjoying those brief moments of solitude like fine wine.

The situation and Gordon's insistence for security was honestly laughable. If the Joker truly wanted to take her a single armed police officer would not be enough to prevent it. And he had never come, nor had the Batman who supposedly rescued her that night.

Gotham Gazette and the Gotham Globe had run headline articles about the bombing in the upper class neighborhood. Esther's name was left out of the story but her fight had made front line news: "_Unknown woman responsible for blinding Joker's minion saved by Batman from revenge kidnapping_." Esther rolled her eyes and groaned when she passed the newsstands. This was entirely the type of attention she had always successfully avoided.

The week just grew more saturated as surprises and annoyances lurked around every corner. One of Esther's largest corporate clients, Wayne Enterprises, had commissioned her services for several new pieces to decorate the soon to be renovated lobby and landscaping around their Gotham headquarters. That was the boring kind of work that Esther found little enjoyment in... however, Esther truly adored working with the Wayne representative Mary Heathrow. Mary was a funny little woman, near to Esther's age and surrounded by an energetic happy cloud. As per their custom when given the opportunity to work together they made Friday lunch plans at an exclusive bistro in the Financial District near the Wayne building. These "meetings" always started serious but ended with fits of laughter as the two women really got deep into their wine.

Esther had been looking forward to the Friday lunch meeting all week, the light at the end of the bland cop saturated tunnel. Grabbing the portfolio of potential pieces Mary might enjoy Esther waved goodbye to her bright young assistant Madeline. Knowing her employee had been required to do more than her fair share that week in answer to the shifted meetings and new schedule enforced by the cops Esther gave a warm smile and offered, "I'm taking an early weekend you should do the same."

"Yes Ma'am!" Madeline smiled in gratitude. "Before you go, Annabel Forsythe from the Gotham Metropolitan Museum called. She wanted to thank you for your assistance procuring the Sir John Everett Millais paintings for the Masquerade's exhibition and also, in her words, begged that I remind you to show up to the party at an appropriate hour."

A twitch of a smile came to the corner of Esther's red painted lips. Annabel liked to mother her, a habit Esther usually put the brakes on, but in this instance understood the older woman's gentle reminder. The year before Esther had been several hours late after a sudden vision had disrupted her timeline. The mark had been tricky and the timing Fate demanded she kill the bastard less than desirable. By the time she had arrived at the Masquerade Esther's carefully styled hair was in disarray, her makeup smeared... and her temper short.

"Please call and let her know I got the message loud and clear," she laughed, smiling at Madeline's heart shaped face as she shouldered her purse. "See you Monday Madeline."

Stepping outside Esther was pleased to find the weather was surprisingly comfortable. Gotham's infamous humid summer and overcast sky missing, replaced by beautiful August weather. Inhaling the warm air deep into her lungs Esther rolled her shoulders, relieved she was not wearing a constrictive suit. Her soft blue dress fitted nicely to her toned body, highlighting her curves yet modestly hanging to her knee. Pale arms swung at her sides and smiling she enjoying the warm sun on her skin. The moment of peace was short lived when her plain clothed officer-of-the-day followed, their mixed steps drumming out an uneven cadence between the two of them.

Upon entering the restaurant she smiled at the familiar maître d' as she gently ran her hands over her wind blown hair, tucking any loose pieces back into the simple twist.

"This way Madam," the man beamed, leading the way down to the well-lit restaurant floor. "Your table is already prepared."

"Thank you Gregory." She smiled at him and then stopped in her tracks, frowning lightly, when she saw just who was sitting at her usual table.

The tall broad form of Bruce Wayne lounged indolently in the chair that was supposed to be filled with Mary Heathrow. Esther quickly cleared her expression of all confusion and placed a small slightly puzzled smile on her face as the man rose to stand, greeting her with a firm hand shake and playful smirk.

"Hello Ms. Cain. I'm afraid Mary was unable to meet with you today. Unfortunately, you are stuck with me." He smiled his best devil may care grin as he released her fingers and took a seat.

Esther arranged herself in the chair opposite Bruce and puzzled at the situation as she looked over the well-dressed man. He was handsome, no doubt, as he continued to smile at her. The cut of his suit was clearly expensive and of fine Italian wool, a soft grey that showed his slight tan and brought out the deep blue of his eyes. As with most men and women of extreme power he seemed to take up more space than necessary as he lounged in his seat. The thirty-something billionaire was confident, cocky, and a person she had done her damnedest to avoid in all social settings. Esther had seen firsthand how irresponsible, obnoxious, and debauched he behaved even at the most formal occasions. Simply put, he bothered her. Esther did not like him and was disappointed that the lunch with Mary she had been looking forward to had been snatched away by the spoiled pretty boy.

Even so she could be charming when it was necessary. "Forgive me Mr. Wayne. I—"

"No, please call me Bruce." He winked at her, somehow managing to look even more conceited.

Mentally rolling her eyes Esther maintained her tight smile. "Alright… Bruce. Please forgive my surprise. I did not know that you had time to attend meetings of this sort." The deeper meaning of her phrasing was not missed: _professional meetings of any kind you useless trust fund fool._

With that, he leaned back in his chair all charm and good manners. Turning his head he raised a hand to signal the waiter.

"Good afternoon Ms. Cain, Mr. Wayne." The sparkling eyes of their waiter smiled down at them. "Would you like your usual bottle for the table Ms. Cain?"

"No Thank y-"

"Absolutely!" Bruce confirmed, seeming quite happy with the idea of an afternoon drink. "Surely we should enjoy ourselves shouldn't we Esther."

God, he was high-handed. Denying her urge to insist he call her Ms. Cain Esther busied herself with pulling out her portfolio and took a slow deep breath. Yes he was annoying but he was also in a very distant and convoluted way her most dangerous client... a man who could ruin her if he felt the urge... and it was not his fault her week had been so... complicated. Clearly this lunch had to happen so she may as well get down to business, do her job, and get the hell home.

She lifted the leather bound portfolio to the table setting it in the center facing him, opening it as she began, "Mr. Wayne."

"Bruce" he reminded her.

"Bruce… here is a sample of the work Mrs. Heathrow and I have been discussing. There are several different options for large indoor sculpture and many varied ideas for landscape art. The clean architectural style of Wayne Enterprises, I believe, is reflected quite nicely in simple lines and large pieces. A soft blend of basic masculine metal is…" She stopped speaking when Bruce rose from his chair and moved to the seat to her right. He began to flip through the pages of the portfolio, acting as if it were totally natural for him to be so near her.

She noticed that his eyes had fallen to her favorite potential piece in the collection. Leaning forward she reached out a slim finger tracing the form of the drawing. "I think this is a perfect example of what I was saying. Clean lines, visually stimulating. I would love to see this hanging from the high ceilings of the lobby of Wayne Enterprises. The light would flow through these segments, drawing the eye upward, inspiring those who came through the doors," she finished, her eyes soft as she imagined the view in her head.

Bruce studied her with frank interest as she leaned toward the drawing, surprised somewhat at her well hidden revulsion at his presence. Woman like this threw themselves at him, yet there Esther Cain was, stiff and professional, her odd vibrant eyes clear of any hint of flirtation.

Most times it was downright exhausting to play the part of Bruce Wayne playboy billionaire, this time it was positively vexing... but it was necessary. He wished he could have simply asked her and moved on with his day. Hated the farce but after the tale she had whispered in his ear just seven days prior... after the way she spoken the strange words and detailed the setting of what would take place if vigil was not kept... he needed to know if she, if anyone, knew he was the Batman.

Esther realized that she had leaned close to the notorious Bruce Wayne when the clean ocean scent of his soap filled her nose. The earnest hint of a smile left her red lips as she leaned back slow enough so as not to offend and maintained her own territory, slightly embarrassed she had let herself be caught up in her work. Bruce watched her cheeks flush yet noticed her eyes did not glance shyly away. Once again it was clear that her behavior was not a flirtation.

The waiter arrived with their wine, a Sauvignon Blanc that Mary and Esther adored. He poured a taste for Bruce, who nodded his approval. Turning to Esther he asked, "Are you ready to order Esther?"

Esther smiled at the familiar waiter, "I will have my usual, Thank you."

"And, _I_ will have my usual." Bruce declared, accenting the 'I' with a wicked grin her way.

The waiter disappeared. "You have a usual here," Esther asked surprised, eyebrows raised. This was a spot she frequented for lunch and not once had she seen him lurking with the sycophants that followed him.

"Indeed I do." He smiled at her, laying the charm on thick as he leaned further back in his new seat. "In fact, I own this restaurant."

"Of course you do," Esther muttered under her breath.

Before he could stop himself Bruce began to laugh richly. "I'm starting to get the idea that you don't really like me Esther Cain."

Esther lifted her glass to her lips, enjoying a long sip of the crisp cool wine, ignoring his statement completely. Gesturing back to the portfolio, Esther began describing each piece in explicit detail while making sure not to lean near him again.

Feigning boredom at the conversation Bruce reached for some of the bread the waiter had set on their table. "Look, Esther," dark blue eyes glanced up, "Ah! The food is here." He smiled as a large steak was placed before him and a salmon salad was set before her.

As always the cuisine was fantastic, too bad she could not say the same about the company. She stole an occasional glance toward Bruce during the meal. He was watching her keenly as he chewed, making her feel uncomfortable with the unwelcome scrutiny.

Bruce soaked in the lines of her features, the straight nose, full unsmiling lips, eyes drifting past her chin to stop and linger at the patchwork of bruises decorating her neck. It was apparent she had tried to cover them with cosmetics but marks that dark were impossible to hide. As Batman, he had overheard several witnesses describe how this woman had beaten and blinded one of the Joker's thugs in self-defense. Accounts were mixed, as eyewitness' statements usually were, but all agreed that without hesitation she had jabbed her fingers into the thug's eyes, digging them around in his skull until he let the blue faced woman go.

Again her strange prophecy hissed through his mind as the awful tone of her whisper grated his ears and replayed through his thoughts:

_"Tomorrow when the sun crests the Maybeth Hotel Alfred Pennyworth will die in the parking lot of Elision's Organics and Wine Shoppe, throat cut ear to ear near the passenger side of his blue BMW by Victor Zsaz... police will find him at 4:11 PM after several citizens walked past the splayed corpse... all having rushed away so as not to be involved. Later that night Victor will slaughter four more, thus earning a new tally to scar upon his flesh. Stop him."_

The chill that crept down Bruce's spine almost a week ago at her hushed whisper was back. Carving another slice of steak he glanced at her and felt frustration at the complete lack of information the lunch had generated. There was nothing remarkable about her history, her position in the city, or her lifestyle. When her name was whispered at the crime scene by the only man who seemed to know her Bruce had contacted Alfred, sending a quick photo of the bloody woman, asking for all available information.

Once home Alfred detailed everything he had collected so far on Esther:

"Master Wayne... Esther Cain: Twenty seven, unmarried with a clean record and not so much as a speeding ticket. She owns her own company where she works as an art dealer and has several well-known influential clients," Alfred stated as he read off the computer screen.

"Oh yeah, like who?" Bruce asked as he began to strip off the cape and cowl.

"Well, like you for example." The jovial playful grin of his guardian lit up Alfred face as he looked to his charge. "She has been working with Wayne Enterprises for years."

That caught his attention. "Well then, I guess I should set up a meeting with Ms. Cain. Oh, and Alfred. I will be following you tomorrow afternoon while you run your errands."

"Much appreciated Master Wayne." Alfred acknowledged, chilled by the detailed premonition Bruce had shared.

Everything was as Esther Cain had whispered in that hurried frenzy. Leaning back into the shadows Batman had tracked the sun until it hit the tip of the Maybeth Hotel. It was like watching a film as the characters got into position. Alfred left with arms full of groceries, approaching his blue BMW on schedule. Like a slippery rat Victor came chattering from the shadows, rusted knife filthy and held by fingers that knew how to wield it. A flash of black and Batman was on him, knocking the knife away before he used the honed techniques of Henri Ducard to force the psychopath back. A struggle ensued, ending when Alfred knocked Zsaz out from behind with a pricey bottle of wine.

Haunted by the bloody blonde woman's words Bruce kneeled over the very man who a year prior had almost killed his dearest childhood friend Rachel Dawes during the _Night of Terror_. A man Batman himself had caught and turned into the police... a man who should have been in prison still but had been set free.

When they were back at the penthouse atop the Wayne Foundation building Alfred and Bruce sat across from one another, the infamous bottle of wine sitting unopened on the table between them. Silence permeated the air as neither wanted to say what had to be said. Instead they praised something else...

Bruce's dark blue eyes were etched with a strange unease as he looked at his dear friend and muttered, "Thank God."

"Thank God indeed…" Alfred replied quietly, the hair rising on his neck as his eyes glanced from the bottle of wine to the face Master Wayne. Bruce looked him solidly in the eye, pulled out his cell phone, and called Lucius Fox. And now, here he was, at lunch with the perplexing Esther Cain…

"Any thoughts about the options on the table today?" Esther asked after blotting her remarkably unsmudged red lips.

Bruce snapped back to the present. "Well, that's really more Mrs. Heathrow's department. I think she can handle the selection." With a broad white toothed grin he added, "Though I do like that first piece you described for the lobby… what did you call it? Inspiring?" Dark blue eyes twinkled at her as he puffed up his chest with false flirtatious cocky arrogance.

"Yes…" Esther narrowed her eyes and put her napkin back in place.

Esther knew bullshit when she saw it; something was going on. Reaching out with her senses in a clear pulse of effort she pressed into the arrogant skull smirking at her. He was immediately difficult to read, saturated with the feeling of walking through thick deep mud. Wayne's mind was dark, conflicted... and completely suspicious. "Mr. Wayne, why are you here?" She asked icily as her false smile fell into an expression far less friendly.

The masculine playful chuckle only set her teeth on edge. "Well, you got me Esther. I wanted to have lunch with the famous woman from the Joker bombing." One dark blue eye winked yet when he saw her expression he inwardly cringed… if looks could kill he would have already been rotting in the grave.

The comfort of a deep breath of air pulled slowly through her nose as she took her time arranging herself, turning in her chair and smiling like a snake ready to take a bite. "And now you have." Her snowy napkin was tossed on the table as slender fingers signaling the waiter for the check.

Their server scurried over with a concerned expression, dropping the bill and asking if everything was acceptable.

"Everything was delicious as usual. Thank you," she said, snatched the tab and placing her credit card inside.

"Really Esther, I own the restaurant, let me take care of lunch," Bruce offered dropping the pretension and arrogance when he realized that he had genuinely offended her.

"The day I let you buy me lunch is the day hell freezes over Mr. Wayne," Esther snapped, her face contorted in disgust. Handing the check presenter to the extremely uncomfortable server she folded her hands in her lap and waited patiently for the horrified waiter to return.

Dark lashed eyelids closed over the vibrant unnatural blue of her eyes as she counted the seconds and waited for the end of this charade. She had to know, "How did you know the articles were about me?"

Bruce had been watching her embarrassed and uncomfortable reaction to his little stunt and answered with an arrogance in his voice that did not exist in his expression, "Because I'm Bruce Wayne…"

Those icy blue eyes flashed open and shot him a scathing look. Bruce Wayne Billionaire Playboy still had a part to play and had not found what he was searching for. Strong hands reached for hers, taking it between his own. It was an unexpected move. Esther did not like being touched, hardly ever allowed it beyond a simple hand shake or brief female society hug, and quickly tried to yank her fingers out of his grasp. He did not let her go and restaurant goers' eyes were starting to fall upon them. Willing her body to stillness she waited and hated the heat of his skin on hers.

"Esther, I did not mean to insult you." He looked officially contrite as he spoke the lie, "Please let me make it up. How about I buy you dinner tomorrow night?"

"I am afraid I am unavailable tomorrow night or any night." She sneered, curling her nails as far into his flesh as the odd angle would allow. Before she could break skin he released her hand and she gave him a dark angry smile laced with boredom. At that moment the waiter returned with her card, she signed the bill, grabbed her things and left the restaurant with her back straight and her ire up.

They had hardly finished half of their meal. Even after she left Bruce continued the charade, smiling wolfishly at a pretty waitress as he sat back and finished his steak. Ms. Cain certainly was interesting. He had to admit that a part of him had been disappointed by her rejection of dinner, though he certainly could not blame her for it. In fact, he respected her for being independent enough to not wish to ride his coattails. But there was far more to the stunning blonde... and he was going to sort her out.

* * *

**What do you think of the new version? Please review and let me know if I should continue or if you prefer the original.**

**Also... what day would you like to see chapter updates?**


	3. Chapter 3

**It took a bit longer than I thought to get this chapter up to scratch, sorry about the wait. Hugs and kisses to those who took the time to review. I loved the encouragement and I really really really appreciate it: hannahhobnob, Silver Katsuyami, and DahliaX**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Perhaps baiting a man like Bruce Wayne had not been wise... but it sure had felt great to tell the bastard off. She was not some toy to amuse him and she sure as hell was not some slut to pant over him like half the women of Gotham did. She had lost her cool, that steadfast patience that had served her since childhood, and knew in her bones she should have handled their _lunch_ differently. The man had money and power enough to make just a few phone calls and put her out of business. Hopefully he was not the vindictive type... and if he was then he would be feeling a world of pain.

It was done and she would handle the consequences as gracefully as possible. The sunshine and leafy green trees lining the posh streets of the financial district had her calm in no time. With her lower lip caught in her teeth Esther debated on how to spend the remainder of her day. Since she had lost Mary's company for the afternoon it seemed only fitting that she might as well just head on home and enjoy some solitude.

Esther walked the entire way home, a trip she suspected the cop following behind her was less than thrilled about. The scenery went from clean posh store fronts and tall imposing buildings to cracked treeless sidewalks and trash blowing in the summer wind. Graffitied walls and stores of a seedier nature began to spring up as she turned the corner into the section of Gotham known as Old Town. Moments later she yanked open the doors of the Rushmore building, Esther Cain's official residence with its once grand art deco lobby looking shabby in the late afternoon sun.

With an innocent smile at the cop following her she took the six flights of stairs, ignoring the elevator in an attempt to wear out the older man. At her door, panting, he readily took the folding chair provided and sat with an appreciative groan. After turning the key she closed the door with her own sigh... eager to sneak out and go to her true home.

The interesting architecture and the old aging charm of the building was not the reason Esther had chosen to live at that address. Old Town was just a hop from the Narrows and not a safe neighborhood my any means... nor was it a glamorous address. No, she had far more useful reasons for enjoying the apartment she hardly ever slept in. Unbeknownst to the other residents of the old Rushmore building the basement held a manhole into old Gotham's drainage system with direct access to the antiquated subway lines. A pathway that led to a hidden house, a secret home she had avoided over the past week and missed.

Business attire was stripped away, replaced with sneakers, old loose fitted jeans, and an oversized hoodie. Slipping through her kitchen she opened the utility closet and carefully removed a hidden panel connecting her apartment to only other unit on her floor, another apartment Esther owned under a false name. Once the panel had been sealed behind her Esther moved through the unfurnished space and headed out the door to the service elevator. Concealed by the Rushmore's odd layout Esther snuck passed where the sweaty officer sat trying to catch his breath. The elevator arrived and she rode down to the basement, crawled through the manhole, and took the familiar dark stroll to her secret place.

Even in almost perfect darkness she knew every step, every turn in the narrow abandoned tunnels. No matter the weather up top it was always cool and the air held the comforting scent of old earth. Over the years Esther had boarded up or blocked any other access to the narrow passageway she frequented so often. The city no longer maintained the old tunnels, considering them too narrow to move modern machinery through and left them to molder, keeping prying eyes away.

Turning a corner she found the small dirt bike she kept down below. Straddling the seat she cranked the engine and shot forward through the dark twisting tunnel, passing under Gotham River, the Narrows, and finally arriving at her destination, the basement of an empty warehouse in the docks district of Low Town. There she parked the dirt bike and climbed up a hidden ladder, exiting the building and sneaking out toward the empty road. From the outside her property resembled a junk yard. The old cracked walls were unappealing and surrounded by abandoned derelict buildings on two sides with the river to the back, concealing the true beauty hidden away.

Concealed in untamed weeds and piles of debris was the heavy rusted metal door to her haven. She entered a code on a hidden keypad and pushed the silent door inward. The gate shut behind her with a soft click of the lock engaging as her eyes took in the well-tended garden she loved. Several of her trees were heavy with fruit and her vegetables needed tending. Dark purple roses bloomed madly around the loose gravel path leading up to a rather old and uninspiring simple two story house.

Esther turned toward the little house and felt the gravel crunch under her sneakers as she stepped toward the porch. Shouldering the front door open her small kitchen greeted her. After spending her week under constant surveillance at the Rushmore her docks house had been shut up good and tight, leaving the air stale. Esther opened the large window that overlooked her porch and garden, smiling at the refreshing breeze.

With a kettle set to boil Esther tidied the small serviceable kitchen, polishing the small wooden table under the window as she hummed a favorite tune. With the breeze cooling off the un-air conditioned space the place grew comfortable. With plenty of summer daylight left Esther had a quick cup of tea, grabbed her gardening tools, and spent the remainder of it working outside. Tending plants had an instant soothing effect on her, draining away the last lingering remnants of her bad mood until she was nothing but soft smiles.

The house and garden were her sanctuary, Gran's house, the woman who had been her savior and friend, the very woman who many years ago fished her bleeding and broken broken body out of the filthy waters of Gotham River. The old woman had breathed life into Esther's water filled lungs and sewn up the matching pair of stab wounds between her ribs. Gran had given her a new name a new identity…christened her Esther, star, for the starlight reflecting night waters Esther's body had floated to her in.

Smiling broadly Esther ran her fingertips over the leaves of the nearest plant imagining the old woman kneeling at her side even as blue eyes looked to the place she had buried Gran years ago. Rich dirt smeared her face and grew thick under her fingernails as she collected her harvest. As the light turned to dusk Esther stood, stretched loudly, and carried her haul to the kitchen. It might not have been a large garden but it was abundant.

Beyond the kitchen sat the wooden stairs leading to the second floor and her cozy living room. An old comfortable sofa faced a simple television. Crunching on a raw cucumber she took a seat, flipped on the tube to Gotham Tonight, and set her feet on the nearby scratched coffee table.

GCN's news flashed across the screen as Mike Engel, one of the few reporters Esther respected began his broadcast. _"Infamous mafia kingpin Gambol was found dead today in Diamond's Billiards, face disfigured with the Joker's signature Chelsea Grin."_

Esther took another bite and smirked. It was as she suspected... the Joker was up to far more than simple stirring the gangsters' pot. Whatever he was up to she had to admit he was entertaining... Also Gambol was a prick. Perhaps the Joker had done her a favor by offing the jackass.

* * *

The Joker had indeed been a busy man. His little "group therapy session" with the prominent Mafia Kingpins earlier that week had been a taste of fun. He had them dancing in his purple gloved hand AND he was got to play with the touchy little Gambol. It sure had been fun getting the cocky fools all riled up by simply mentioning money. It was so easy, so very simple to affect these long standing Gotham power mongers... and they feared him. A tremor of pure pleasure went through the Joker's hunched form as he recalled the room recoiling from his, let's be honest, very funny grenade prank. Gotham's mobsters were such predictable cowards.

The night prior he had sent a message, slicing Gambol face open in warning to all the criminals in the city that the Joker was not to be fucked with. Grinning broadly at the memory, the terrified look in Gambol's wide eyes as he held the knife between his lips, the dread in the faces of Gambol's men as he told a particularly charming story about how he got his scars, ahhh it was delightful. Black eyes closed as the Joker relived the way those well-dressed mobsters twitched when he asked, "Why so serious-ah?"

Amidst all the excitement The Joker had not forgotten his little friend from the party, oh no no no. That had been the most fun he had had in ages! The way she attacked that idiot, brutal, despite the man's hands crushing her pretty little throat. Then her attempt to actually strike him, wounded as she was in that hospital bed. Black eyes flashed open, dancing at the memory. It had been a busy week as he toyed with Gotham's underbelly and there simply had not been enough time to give her the attention she deserved. Even so he had his peon, Nolan, keeping tabs... not to mention the fat cop who wheezed outside her door every night.

From what they had gathered Esther Cain's life seemed seriously monotonous to anyone without the sense to see under her clever little mask. Something was there, something very interesting. Regular woman don't just rip the eyes out of men's skulls now do they?

The blonde lived alone, worked long hours, and walked a lot... booooorrring. The only interesting news he had heard was the funny tale of her little hissy fit at lunch earlier with Bruce Wayne. He giggled to himself as he wiped Gambol's dried blood from his switchblade. Well, if his slaves were too stupid to find out her secrets he was just going to have to pay her a visit tomorrow night and solve the mystery himself. Perhaps he should send her a present, see if that got her riled up. What did girls like these days? Severed heads? Cackling at his joke caused the goons lurking nearby to look up, a few with frightened expressions. That only made him laugh harder.

"You!" The Joker gestured with his knife at one of the more useful crazies in his posse. "We are going to do a little shopping. Get the car."

The young man nodded his handsome shaved head, blue eyes glowing with fervent anticipation.

* * *

Fate had granted Esther a quiet night in her little docks house, time spent lounging and enjoying the sound of wind through the trees. Even her sleep had been undisturbed by dream or visions. The only negative was that yesterday's fair weather had been replaced with a muggy heat Gotham summers were famous for. The added humidity left a sheen of sweat over her skin as she exercised tirelessly in the garden, moving through attack forms and sharpening the skills to assure no other goon got a lucky shot in.

Something always fell away when she let her body move through the well-known dance. Two blades flashed in the sunlight with each spin, until the morning had passed and it was time to make her way back to the Rushmore to prepare for the Museum's Masquerade.

After cutting a few of her favorite dark purple roses Esther filled up a pack with her harvest and made good time underground. Crawling back through the utility closet she could sense that not a soul knew of her little sojourn. Lingering in the tub to scrub the dirt and sweat from her body Esther felt anticipation blooming at the thought of how she would spend the evening. It was her favorite night of the year, the culmination of the Gotham Metropolitan Museum's board members hard work. A night where the proceeds of all those who came for the pageantry would keep the place running smoothly for another year. The city's elite paid a small fortune for a ticket and just about as much on the costumes required for the event. It was a nationally covered press event for fashion blogs, stylish television shows, and the more snobby publications. Each year the guests followed a central theme, many going overboard to outdo whatever was the height of fashion the year before, making the masks and dresses more outlandish and creative at every Ball.

That year's Masquerade theme centered on the incredibly haunting painting, Ophelia, by Sir John Everett Millais. The artwork in question, along with many other of the brilliant painter's works, would be on special display for the guests and patrons. Esther had spent years working on procuring that particular exhibition, maneuvering and manipulating every contact she had in the art world just to see it hang for a short season in her museum.

It was more than just her appreciation for the beauty of the painting... there was something that resonated with Esther and the drowned woman on the canvas. The way the corpse's eyes stared to the sky as if in a trance... How much that portrait signified her life, having felt the cold stabbing death of water fill her own lungs more than once. Even though the painting was tragic it was still beautiful, full of gentle nature and the promise of freedom.

Esther Cain had been a member of the Museums board of directors for almost five years and dedicated a very large portion of her time to her work there. Several of the other board members were associates of hers, a few of them friends... having removed all the unworthy over the years... one of whom she even killed three years ago. Thinking back to Samuel Prescott's demise Esther toweled off the water from her bath and was glad the bastard was dead. He had been a child molester, she felt it the first time she shook his hand and clearly saw what he had done to his little niece. Later that same night she snuck up behind him on the street and slit his throat very slowly. The police had thought it was just your standard Gotham mugging when she took his money and watch, tossing the junk in the river. At his funeral she stood in black and watched the ten year old girl she had set free stare forward at the shiny casket with hate and exultation in her eyes. Needless to say, his niece is a much happier girl now.

After a quick glance at the clock Esther pulled on shorts and a tank top, grabbed her roses, and headed out the front door.

"Where are you off to Ma'am?" an unfamiliar southern drawl asked.

Well, this was new. She did not recognize this cop. He was handsome with a shaved head, tall and muscular with a winning smile on his face, probably a former marine by the muscled look of him. The skin around his blue eyes creased a little as he continued to give her a devil may care grin and introduced himself as officer Risata.

Locking her door Esther explained in a flat voice, "There is an event at the Met Museum tonight. I have an appointment at Chester's Salon to prepare."

"What event at the Met?"

"The Gotham Metropolitan Museum of Art's Annual Masquerade Ball… A fundraiser." She added absently waving a hand.

"And the flowers?"

She waited ten long seconds before answering, holding her face blank and her eyes locked on his. He did not so much as blink. "They are for my hair."

Unlike the other police who had shadowed her officer nosy walked right at her elbow... as if they were chums. The man made sure to open every door, smiled each time she looked at him, and generally ignored her less than friendly demeanor. At the door of her salon Esther gave him a quick once over as the glass door closed between them, recognizing clearly that he was a little… off.

Distracted with the preparation for the party Esther blissfully sipped tea and reading Vogue, relaxing while the experts did their work. Toes and fingers were painted a red so dark it was almost black, hair piled high upon her head in a wild mass of rococo curls. Three of her fully bloomed deep purple roses tucked beautiful in her coiffure. The makeup artist had skillfully painted an alluring blend of seductive dark smoky eyes, false lashes, and deep blood dark red lipstick. Even with the makeup and the pale powder the skilled makeup artist had done his best to cover the ugly bruises on her neck, but unfortunate only time was going to make them fade. Despite the marks she felt the look was perfect and left excited to have some fun at her party.

An appreciative whistle passed the waiting officer's lips as he looked her up and down. "Very striking Ma'am."

Ok, it was totally inappropriate but she could not help but laugh at the situation. Here she was standing in shorts and a tank top with her hair and makeup done to a ridiculous proportion in the middle of a busy Gotham sidewalk. Icy blue eyes even more vibrant rimmed as they were in the dark paint narrowed as she smiled, "Thank you officer…Risata."

Once back at the Rushmore the large package filled with her costume was waiting for her, delivered in the knick of time. Officer Risata insisted on carrying it up to her apartment but at her door she took the package, making sure he did not so much as step a toe over the threshold. With him out of her hair Esther pulled open the box to see just what Felipe had designed for her.

The weight of the costume jarred the insides of the box, spilling it on its side as she pulled the gown free to lay out on her bed. Bending down to pick up the spilled underpinnings and mask she found a badly wrapped package laying in the mess. Curious she pulled off the purple and green polka dot wrapping to find a large velvet jewelry box. Lifting the lid revealed an intricate onyx necklace. Esther held it up to her neck and gazed in the mirror at the delicate high choker collar and weighty dark flashing gems that flowed gracefully down her décolleté stopping just above her breasts, it would conceal much of the dark bruises on her neck and was wonderful surprise. It's not as if Felipe could have known but somehow he had given her exactly what she needed. The velvet box fell forgotten to the floor as she admired the beauty of the dark tangle of stones, one unseen laughing Joker card falling with it.

It was a labor getting all the underpinnings tugged into place and lacing her waist into the tight boning required to anchor the heavy gown. A switchblade was tucked between her breasts, its shape well hidden by the stiffness of her corset. After stepping into the dress Esther was pleased at the figure she cut. The full skirt draped in deep red velvet lay over a heavy gold petticoat. Dark golden scalloped lace poured and lightly shimmered around the skirt, dripping from the cinched waist in an eye-catching waterfall. When she moved the red and gold of the skirt shifted, mysteriously alternating which color dominated. The bodice was designed with alternating panels of the same deep blood red and dark golden meeting at a V where black jet beads had been encrusted running up the bodice and fanning out over her breasts in a filigreed spray of twinkling darkness. The square cut bodice was cut daringly low, far lower than she had requested, and at this she fidgeted with the gown, trying to pull it higher with no luck. Fitted sleeves flowed down her arms and flared at the elbow, delicately trailing golden lace and small jet beads.

A small glided black and gold domino mask was tied with a careful ribbon and the ornate necklace clasped around her throat. With a smirk at her reflection Esther had to admit... she looked good, like a modern twist on an evil little Marie Antoinette. When she gathered her things and opened the door the same officer from before stood at attention. She curtsied playfully and batted her eyelashes as the young man grinned like a lunatic while he tipped his cap.

Her exotically decorated blue eyes ran over his face measuring his devil may care grin. Then it hit her. "Doesn't Risata mean laughter in Italian?"

* * *

Despite her early arrival the streets outside The Gotham Metropolitan Museum of Art were already swarming with partygoers. Walkng up the marble staircase she gazed around, admiring many of the beautiful costumes and bizarre creative masks. Oddly enough, elaborate clown masks and deep purple seemed to be quite the fashion... Clearly the Joker had started a very morbid Gothamite trend.

As was custom most of the Gotham elite would stay outdoors for some time yet, hoping to be photographed by one of the fashion magazines or interviewed on the red carpet. Bypassing all the fuss Esther skirted the crowd going straight toward the staff entrance, flashing her Museum Board Identification at the armed guards she walked straight into the party.

The atrium was flanked on each side by a grand staircase leading to a balcony above where the board members were already congregating. Soft lighting and notes from the Gotham Philharmonic poured filled the air for those who came early to enjoy. Flowers poured from every surface that could support them. Deep striking colored blooms in the jewel tones of the painting Ophelia set the stage for the ball. A deep breath of the soft scent while the air was still cool and not filled with the perfume of the thousands lurking outside made her smile. It was these moments, when the Atrium was still practically empty, that she loved the most.

Her shoes were soft, silent, against the marble floor as she headed to the special exhibition hall to view her precious Ophelia. The star of the evening hung at center stage in the room bathed in the proper light that best brought out the vibrant colors used to depict the suicide. Esther approached the painting with reverence, closed her eyes and recalled the day her father had brought her to see it for the first time. She had been around four years old, propped on his hip as he carried her around the galleries. When her eyes fell on this painting she tugged his sleeve and pointed. Laughing softly he carried her toward it. Time stopped when she looked on the beautiful dead woman's face. He saw the change come over his child as she looked deeply at the painting and held her in that spot until the museum closed for the day, thrill to find her enraptured with an artist he appreciated.

It was the same every time she had seen Ophelia since... Time passed with little meaning as icy blue eyes fell into the work, breathing softly and lost in the moment. Only this time it was not the jostle of the nearby on lookers that knocked Esther from her stupor, it was an odd sensation, the icy brush of warning that someone was watching her. Her eyes stole over the room, it had grown dark in the time she lost and now the area was packed with strangers. Casually scanning the crowd she found no eyes on her, nothing amiss. No one seemed to pay her any mind but that uncomfortable sensation of eyes on her made her very conscious of the deadly sharp switch blade hiding in her corset. Uncomfortable Esther decided that she better make herself seen by Annabel before her friend started to worry. The second floor was unspokenly reserved only for the Museum Board and the most honored guests and patrons. Carefully managing her heavy skirt up the grand staircase Esther walked up to the balcony overlooking the atrium and smiled as she saw Annabel and another well-liked board member, the shy aging gentleman, Mr. Draper. The older woman was dressed in a very becoming blue gown with an intricate white mask and feathers erupting from her grey hair. The costume was as exuberant as her personality.

"Esther! There you are dear. It is so good to see you," Annabel exclaimed, wrapping her soft arms around her friend and smiling. "You look beautiful, darling. Felipe out did himself this year." When the pale green eyes began to dart around Esther knew what was coming next from the Grande Dame's mouth. "Where is your escort Esther?"

Ignoring her brash question Esther enthused, "The decorations are breathtaking Annabel! I thi—"

"Enough of that. Turn around, there is someone I want you to meet," Annabel interrupted while she moved around to the men standing nearby. Inwardly groaning Esther nodding a greeting to Mr. Draper ignoring Annabel as the woman tapped a tall young man on the shoulder. Chewing the inside of her cheek Esther looked over the party, resenting that the sweet older woman always felt the need to introduce her to men.

A much loathed voice made her spin her head back toward the group with vivid blue eyes flashing behind her mask. "Why Esther, what brings you here tonight?"

After her behavior at lunch she could not afford to appear openly hostile... especially if he was considering becoming a museum patron. A moment of time hung oddly between the two of them as Esther took a breath and offered the most polite smile she could manage... then still failed to speak.

Fortunately Annabel Forsythe chimed in with flawless timing, "Mr. Wayne, Esther is one of our Museum's strongest supporters, has been a member of our board for almost four years. She is responsible for the Sir John Everett Millais exhibition here this evening."

"Is that so?" Bruce cocked an eyebrow feigning charm just as Esther pretended her smile was genuine.

She had seen his tailored tuxedo with tails, recognized the expense of his shirt studs but found it odd the man wore no mask. Though she said it kindly Bruce understood her mockery when Esther flashed her white teeth and mocked, "This is a Masquerade. Where is your mask?"

As if in on the joke he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the simplest of black domino masks, clearly disinterested in the gaudy styles the other men were sporting for fun. Setting the object over his eyes he flashed a smile and asked, "May I stay now Esther?"

"That depends, how much money are you going to donate to this wonderful place?" Her voice was dark as blood red lips curled in an impish smile. "Non-patrons do not get to enjoy the view from the balcony Mr. Wayne."

Annabel watched the exchange misreading the mocking for flirtation and stepped away with a proud little smirk at a job well done.

"I thought I told you to call me Bruce."

"Bruce."

"You look very beautiful…" his voice deep and sincere as he took in her intricate costume. The lights began to dim and the Orchestra struck the beginning notes of the first dance of the night. "If I may be so honored Esther." Bruce Wayne held a white gloved hand towards her.

Esther had already turned away, prepared to deny the jackass as politely as possible. Slipping her arm in the crook of Mr. Draper's elbow she offered an apology, "Sorry _Mr. Wayne_ but I have already promised the first dance to Mr. Draper. Excuse me."

Bruce scowled, thwarted, and watched her pass with annoyance, her quip at the mask and dismissal grating on his nerves. She was so damn unreadable and clearly did not like him one bit. But even with the hours of surveillance over the past week he had uncovered nothing abnormal about her.

Ever the gentleman Mr. Draper escorted Esther down the curving marble staircase to the dance floor below. Having known the shy Herald Draper for many years she could not remember a time she had seen him dance at one of these functions, therefore, was incredibly grateful for his kindness at the moment. As he led her around the crowded floor she noticed Bruce Wayne partnering a famous Gotham beauty and was certain that the lady would keep him distracted.

The song came to an end and she smiled gratefully into Mr. Drapers old blue eyes. He bowed slightly to her, a tiny smile on his lips as he left the floor seeking quiet. Preparing to find her own solitude and wander through the galleries Esther glanced up, seeking the best path through the sea of party goers and found Bruce moving through the masses gunning straight for her. Cursing under her breath Esther turned just as he was about to descend upon her and felt a stranger's soft gloved fingers take her elbow.

Bruce came forward to claim her, unaware of the man who already had her in his grasp. "Esther?"

"The woman is spoken for," a low purr growled indolently from behind a full mask reminiscent of a demon scowling in deeply sinister excitement. Gloved fingers griped a little harder than necessary at her waist as the stranger swung his body between her and the unwelcome intruder.

She should have been annoyed that the stranger held her so possessively but Esther was honestly too amused as she sneered at Bruce Wayne's stiff retreating back to care. One dance and she would be free to find her paintings and spend the night in relative peace.

Fingers came to her chin, turning her attention back to the man who held her. The threatening look in her eye when she realized what he had done did nothing but make a laugh, low and dark, escape from the mask as the man pulled her just a little bit closer. The smile on her red lips diminished when the intense refrains of the Gotham Philharmonic struck up, highlighting the female vocalist sultry rendition of a darker slow moving melody. Black eyes rimmed in paint twinkled mischievously down from the mask as they moved through the movements and in the dim light. Esther did not need to see the green tips of his smoothed back hair to recognize just who had claimed her for a dance.

He was dressed in an impeccably fitting tuxedo with tails. A black bowtie perfectly knotted around his throat and a gold pocket watch fob handing from his dark green waistcoat. As their slow dance continued he leaned toward her, hunching at the shoulders, drawing her body closer to his, his palm firm against her lower back. She turned her eyes to their entwined hands, Familiar purple gloves held her fingers firmly. Nothing good could come of him being there and her expression made it clear.

"Hello Joker…" Esther purred menacingly.

His hand fractional tightened around her fingers and she could sense he was smiling behind the mask. There was no singsong in his voice, only the low grate of a growling beast with razor sharp teeth itching to take a bite. "I told you we would continue our, ah, _dance._"

"You have a reputation for being a man of your word." She remarked, thinking back to the violent home video the news had broadcast earlier that afternoon. The Joker had terrified and viciously slaughtered a Batman impersonator, all on tape, demanding the real Batman take off his mask or more would die.

"Please tell me you have not put a bomb in the Museum." Esther dropped her voice so low it mirrored the demonic mask of her partner. "I don't want to have to kill you."

His body began to shake with violent giggles. "Kill me?" The Joker leaned toward her ear to whisper, "Do you really want to play the killing game… because I had another game in mind?"

Ignoring the shiver that ran down her spine and the sudden gooseflesh she knew he could clearly see she turned her head toward his, so close that had he not been wearing a mask their lips would be in danger of brushing. She met his eyes. "I don't have any chocolate pudding with me for you to steal."

Eerie snickers turned into full blown guffaws that only grew louder as several of the nearby dancers turn to glance their way. Uncertain how to handle the mercurial man Esther closed her eyes and tried to focus on reading him and found… nothing, not even a sliver or hint, only a vast void that try as she might she was incapable of crossing. She had never perceived anything like it before and in her frustration to force her way in Esther slid the hand gripping his shoulder to cup the side of his neck, hoping the physical contact would open the path.

The Joker instantly quieted, recognizing her touch was not an attack or an act of fear as those odd colored blue eyes burned intensely up into his. Examining her face closely he watched her close those pool of artic ice, felt her body relax as she breathed once deeply through slightly parted blood red lips.

The world fell away. Esther was gone, lost in the void... impeded by unending darkness and pure unstoppable resolve.

The Joker glared down at the strange woman in his arms. She was touching him freely but her eyes were closed. He did not appreciate losing her attention and cruelly squeezed her hand, shaking her once roughly. She felt a dull ache as the Joker crushed her fingers, the discomfort causing a strange feeling of familiarity to buzz in her brain like a flawed memory that vanished before she could grasp it.

She blinked, bewildered by what she had seen, or rather, what she had not seen. Her eyelashes fluttered as she collected herself, frustrated to encounter a mind she could not breach and far too intrigued for her own good.

His Adam's apple bobbed as the Joker swallowed, dark eyes angry and petulant as he held her punishingly tight against him. Absently her hand slipped around to the back of his neck and she fingered the surprisingly clean green tipped hair, feeling the smoothness of the combed back style under the band holding his creepy mask in place. "You are holding me too closely."

Her touching him, paying attention properly, it felt good. Grunting deep in his throat the Joker pulled her closer still, running his hand across her lower back until his arm was fast around her. Grinning broadly under his mask he began to imagine all the things he would do to the woman, how he would make her scream.

The dark notes of the melody began to fade. They stood still, face to face, a strange tension circling them both. He looked down to her throat admiring the way his gift enveloped her bruises. Releasing her fingers he traced the pattern of the necklace into her skin, lingering over the dark finger shaped marks, studying the pattern.

Esther's fascination began to fade with that sinister hand hovering far too close for comfort. Unhappy with the appraisal she leaned her head back, moving her neck away from the long probing fingers.

The Joker was not pleased at her sudden withdrawal. Not. One. Bit.

The orchestra began another slow melody. "Do I make you uncomfortable?" he teased maliciously, bending the words in his odd speech.

Esther sneered, "You still have your eyes." The words were spoken politely but the deeper meaning was clear: continue and face the consequences.

Running his eyes over her body he smiled wickedly under the evil mask. She looked so… appealing in that blood red dress. He intoned high pitched and nasal, cocking his head to the side at her little flash of temper, "I was only seeing how nice my gift looked wrapped around your throat."

Gift? She looked confused then her eyes went wide at the memory of the badly wrapped jewelry box and the charming goon sent to keep an eye on her. She certainly had gotten the Joker's attention. Realization of what she was doing hit Esther with full force. Was she insane? This was a deeply dangerous man and here she was actually letting him hold her. A wary flash passed through her eyes as she disengaged her fingers from his shoulder.

"I can't play with you all night." Esther asked frankly with an edge of insistence, "What is it that you want?"

"Me?" he asked innocently, his voice a husky murmur. "Well, a _thank you_ would be nice." The purple gloved fingers that had been admiring her throat shot around and firmly grasped the back of her neck thrusting her face mere inches from his mask, his other arm gripping powerfully around her waist, forcing Esther to continue their dance or make a dangerous scene. "And tonight I just want to have a, ah, _little fun._"

Anyone observing them would have though he held her in a passionate embrace but his hands were rough and she began to stumble as he danced her menacingly away from the crowded space. Steering them into a dark empty alcove far away from peering eyes, the Joker's laughter only grew as she griped the back of his neck, breaking skin with her manicured talons and preparing to attack once out of sight.

Shadowed and unseen in a dark corner Esther felt the marble wall cold against her back and the hard body of a man pressed to her front. Swearing to herself that she would not be cowed as she had been in the hospital she let her hands strike like a snake. Breathing hard she watched as he carelessly ignored the pain and pushed his mask to the top of his head, letting her see the raw excitement of his expression. Strong jaw, straight nose, and deep penetrating tar black eyes coated with thick sinister paint. The chaos of smeared color both bright and bleak creased as he ever so slowly smiled, stretching the infamous scars up in the macabre wash of red.

He purred at her faster breathing and practically pulsed with anticipation, "What are you under there?"

His eyes looked down and one finger hooked the front of her gown, pulling the tight fabric right at her cleavage a little away as if the answer was hidden under her dress. Her hand circled his wrist, gripping with a strength that spoke for her. He let the bodice free of his finger and met her eyes, the black suddenly smooth and shining like lakes of spilled ink.

Something was happening; she could sense it in the air around him as clearly as she could smell the heat of his body... the inescapable carnal scent that pressed so close. Still as stone she stood taunt as a bow string, fingers encircling his wrist as it progressed deliberately, as if approaching a poisonous snake prepared to strike, and the heat of his palm cupped the exposed swell of the top of her breast. Blue eyes dilated as she inhaled deeply, her breath inadvertently pushing her breast further against his gloved palm. Moving slowly, hardly touching the velvet skin his caress slipped higher over the intricate necklace until warm long fingers cradled the back of her neck... and she stilled.

Visibly nodding his head the Joker chewed the inside of his scars, tongue darting over his scarred lips. He leaned his head in close and drew a deep breath, memorizing her fragrance. Gingerly, almost worshipfully, he laid his scarred mouth against her lips. The kiss was chaste but lingered so long the lashes of her eyes closed against her cheeks and her body softened in his embrace. When the Joker finally raised his head black eyes blazed with hunger and lingered on where his red paint had blended with her blood red lipstick.

Releasing her neck his fingers bushed over her ear and he carefully took a rose from her hair, his grin dark and arrogant as the Joker pressed the purple bloom into his lapel. A few dark petals fell to the floor between them when he abruptly pulled down his mask, laughing honestly as he abandoned her in the dark.

Hands braced against the unyielding marble Esther watched his tall form melt into the crowd and disappear. Perplexed and frustratingly unfulfilled she looked left and right and realized that she had been expertly outmaneuvered, tamed... for lack of a better word. The Joker had fondled her, kissed her, and she had not even once reached for the knife that would have left him bleeding at her feet.

Unready to leave the shadows she thought over what the consequences of this evening would be. Esther took no side and was not interested in getting caught in the Joker's scheme, or happy at the thought she had gained his attention. The fact his mind was closed off to her also made him dangerous in a way others were not.

_"What are you under there?"_ His words echoed in her mind. What was she indeed.

Unsettled, rebellious, and hungry for… something more... she gathered herself and stood from the wall. Accosting a waiter carrying a tray of champagne Esther grabbed two flutes and instantly swallowed the first one as she tried to quite her body and figure out why he was out of her power. Setting the empty glass aside Esther began drinking the second with a frown.

Firm fingers tapped her shoulder from behind. Turning with the flute still at her lips Esther found Bruce Wayne staring down at her with dark angry eyes. Swallowing the rest of the crisp champagne she set the empty glass back on the tray, flippantly grabbed two more flutes and handed one to the annoying billionaire.

"Looks like you could use this," she challenged with an unamused smirk.

She stared up into Bruce Wayne's beautiful blue eyes, trying to intimidate the man into backing away. He glared right back at her, just as steadily, making it clear her little maneuver was not working.

The effects of the champagne were beginning to take hold. Bored, she brazenly turned away from the influential man, making her way through the crowd. As she neared the edge of the dancers she felt a hand firmly reach around her wrist, turning her. He raised his glass to hers, clinking the crystal in a challenge of his own. They both drained their flutes and his cool fingers brushed her hand taking the empty flute and handing both to a passing waiter.

Clearly words did not work when dealing with this woman. He let his actions speak for him and simply pulled her deeper onto the dance floor. Surprised at his boldness she was about to open her mouth and cut him down but dark blue eyes flashed to hers, daring her to dance or run off like a coward. Esther did enjoy a challenge; she let him have his dance.

The man clearly was a polished dancer, gliding them smoothly across the floor. Though she could not quite place her finger on it there was something deeply familiar in his movements, something stirring in the way he controlled his body. She scowled just a little as she tried to piece the odd feeling together as the waltz continued. When the final notes of the song fell Bruce was reluctant to let her go. His hand remained at her waist his eyes searching hers.

As the next strain of music began she made to pull away, only to feel him squeeze her waist gently with his strong hand, "Please?" He asked, his eyes solemn and insistent.

Esther remained silent, absentmindedly rubbing her red lips together. He took the silence as her concession and gently seized her right hand, placing their entwined fingers against his chest in a far more familiar style of dancing and began the slow comfortable steps.

The black mask around his eyes did not hide his expression. It was there for her to see clearly, Bruce was watching her with complete focus... as if trying to peel the layers of her secrets away. She sensed it at once, this was not the shallow playboy who pestered her at lunch, this was the mind of a highly intelligent man... Their eyes locked, almost at war to see who would be uncovered first. In fact she was so caught up in the penetrating dark blue gaze that Esther had not noticed the flashing cameras winking around them, failed to perceive the attention they had gained in the crowd.

Like a shot, the darkness left and Bruce grinned, growing playful and made her actually laugh as he spun her almost recklessly, ending the dance in a ridiculous dip. Breathless she found herself actually smiling at the bastard. Catching herself she pulled up her guard, thanked him for the waltz, then quickly exited the dance floor and the crush of the crowd for some air. Slithering like a darting snake through packed rooms Esther found her way outside and took a deep breath of the cool night air. The small botanical garden was lit splendidly by the full moon as she stood on the terrace and admired the calm waters of the lily pond at the center of the garden. The cool cement of the balustrade supported her weight as she leaned forward and closed her eyes, listening to the night sounds of the city and the muffled music coming from behind her.

"Esther…" Bruce's tone was reproachful.

Her head peered over her shoulder to find the man had actually been able to sneak up on her without her hearing a thing. Bruce Wayne stood there, still as a statue while she scowled at the picture he presented. In the moonlight the elegant angles of Bruce's face gave him an otherworldly appeal, the black mask around his eyes fetching.

Exhaling, she turned about, leaned her elbows back on the railing, looking up into the eyes of the man who would just not leave her alone. "Mr. Wayne."

He hesitated at the frustrated note in her voice. "What have I done to have earned your dislike?"

How very forward. Bruce had surprised her again by simply just asking for facts and not dancing around the topic as they had at lunch. She could not help but let a wicked smirk twist her lips. "You spoiled my Friday and ruined what would have been a perfectly good time with Mary so that you could gawk at me."

"Be honest Esther," he chided, pleased with her honesty thus far. "You disliked me before we sat down yesterday."

She stared down at his chest, his expensive crisp shirt, his outrageously expensive shirt studs, sizing him up with no shame at her appraisal. "Can you blame me?"

No, he could not. Bruce Wayne playboy billionaire was a first rate prick. It was a persona he had honed for years and loathed to play... and for some reason especially hated playing it with the strange pale woman before him. The only people who knew who he really was were Rachel and Alfred, his best friend and his guardian and that had always been enough. But now, looking down at Esther's unveiled repugnance made him feel... oddly lonely.

"No need to look so wounded Mr. Wayne. Once you go back inside hordes of women will cling to you and tell you anything you want to hear. I am certain your ego will recover in seconds."

Esther shoved past him, entered the Museum and disappeared from his sight. Dejected, he glanced toward the cloud heavy sky and saw the signal, the luminescent bat glowing over Gotham like an unblinking eye. He had work to do.

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**I had a blast with this chapter. I hope you enjoyed it and please let me know what you think. Reviews are much loved. Thank you!**

**The painting, Ophelia, will be posted on my Facebook page to anyone who would like to see it. just search for Kiku no Tsuyu.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Huge shout out to my awesome reviewers hannahhobnob and mithrabear! Also, extra love for mithrabear beta reading this chapter and fixing all my silly mistakes. THANK YOU!**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Soothed, comfortably warm and surrounded in her favorite smell Esther floated through her dream world. He always smelled of fine wool and a subtle hint of the woodsy cologne he favored... and though she could not see him, he was all around her, the richness of his voice like a hum in the air. For a brief blissful second she knew peace.

That's when that long hated voice broke through their private moment, ruining it, taking the warmth and replacing it with bitterness. Esther fought against the encroaching intruder so fiercely that when the memory snapped into place it took the breath from her very body.

_"You are getting her too wound up!" The woman complained behind her. "She won't sit still come dinner time if you keep tossing her around." It was that tone, the hidden layers of boredom and loathing Esther had left behind, forgotten, in another life._

_One second her father was playing with her, holding her up as Esther's fat little childhood legs kicked the air in pleasure, and what had been a beautiful moment with her father altered and showed its true face. At her mother's reprimand he lowered her, setting Esther down with a wink. Disappointed but unsurprised she felt her skirt billow around her as the cool feeling of the kitchen floor settled against her legs. The memory sharpened though Esther tried to fight it, not wanting to see... trying to shut off the recollection until her head filled with unbearable pain. Some memories were buried for good reason, some things were too horrible to have to live again... yet there she was, sitting on that kitchen floor looking at her father while her fingers scratched the brown gout between the white Spanish tiles in their family home._

_Sniffing the air Esther knew that dinner would be done soon. Spaghetti and peas, the tang of the canned tomato sauce and the flat scent of the small green vegies saturated the air. It was that smell that made everything go wrong. _

_Running small fingers over the floor, enjoying the abrasive sensation of the dark brown grout, Esther continued to stare. The fluffy material of her favorite dress bunched around her legs, wrinkling the expensive cotton sateen. It was that, the fact Esther had allowed herself to be mussed that finally earned her mother's glare. Appearances were important and the beautiful dark haired woman went to great lengths to show off her wealth._

_Deadpan her daughter simply watched her, icy blue eyes losing focus as the woman's thoughts bubbled up where Esther could see them. Her mother was upset, bitter that her weekend plans had been ruined by her husband's unexpected business trip._

_"I don't understand why Carmine Falcone has to send you tonight. Why not go on Monday so we don't need to cancel our trip?"_

_The patient smile that came to the gentleman's face did not pacify his wife. "We can take a trip to the cape next month darling."_

_It was not just the trip her mother was angry about, it was the fact that she would be stuck caring for the child alone for the entire weekend. The disgust was apparent in her mind as the woman glared down at the pot of spaghetti she stirred in anger, pissed off that yet another nanny had quit only the day before. It was the same embarrassing scene over and over. No one wanted the job of raising the child, least of all her. The rumors were humiliating and if one more nanny left, running scared of a six year old, the woman was going to lose it._

_Spankings had not worked, nor had taking away all her favorite toys... the girl still told her creepy stories, morbid accountings of personal secrets and whispers of death. Esther knew it upset everyone and tried to stop... but her mouth would open and the words would just come out. _

_Swallowing as she looked back to the floor the little girl felt just as disappointed as her mother did. She did not want to spend her time with her either, all she wanted was more time with the father that was hardly ever home. He never cared what she said, never scolded... was gentle. Swallowing, Esther ignored the woman's dark thoughts and looked back to the one person who mattered._

_Recognizing that the girl was upset familiar hands lifted the child off the floor and set her on his knee, pressing a kiss to her forehead. _

_"You look just like your pretty mamma," the older man cooed, smoothing back the white blonde curling mass of fine baby hair before glancing up at his stunning wife._

_The complement brought a little smirk to his wife's lips. Picturesque, that's what the dark haired beauty was. Like the cover of a magazine; never so much as a hair out of place or a nail chipped even while she did something as trivial as prepare dinner. Vapid was another word for her, a vain woman whose greatest accomplishment in life had been to marry rich. How a man like her father could love a woman like her mother had stumped Esther even at a very young age. And he did love her; Esther could see it clearly in the older man's thoughts._

_Fingering her father's light grey suit lapels Esther studied his face, the smile lines creased at the corner of his eyes, his short white hair cropped into a gentleman's haircut. Even with his face full of smiles Esther could see he was unnerved about whatever his boss was sending him out to do, was just as disappointed as they were that family weekend was cancelled. Small hands went to touch his face, patting his cheeks to comfort him just before the vision came to her. _

_And she saw the truth... Esther would no longer be allowed to keep him. _The familiar feeling of his warm palm brushed back the downy hair of her younger years as eyes the color of her lightest blue crayon glowed down at her, waiting for the fit to pass and for the eyes he gave her to find their focus.

_"Now you will have fun with your mother while I am gone won't you?" He was charming, misreading her look for one of distress at what the adults were discussing. "I will only be gone a few days but you must be a very good girl for your mother sweetheart... and if you are when I get back I will take you to the Museum." It was the best carrot he could dangle, knowing how much his child loved Gotham's Met Museum. It was their special place where it was quiet and together they could stare at beautiful things, just the two of them._

_Esther's voice was forlorn when small arms wrapped around his neck and she whispered, "I will miss you daddy."_

_"There is no need to sound so sad little one." He gave her a hug. "I will be back before you know it."_

_No, he would not... unless she could change his mind. "If you go you won't come back."_

_He laughed softly, kissing her brow with a silly smacking sound. "Sweet girl, I will always come home to you. I love you too much to stay away."_

_Out of the corner of her eye Esther caught the flash of fury on her mother's face. The words... the words she could not stop had got her into trouble again. He left after dinner no matter how much she begged him to stay, closed the front door of his house leaving Esther behind with the smell of spaghetti and peas and the hateful glares of her mother._

_That evening the news was full of the plane that blasted apart at takeoff. Hundreds had been killed but only one death mattered to Esther. Her father was gone forever, burned to death just as she had seen. That was the night the real beatings began, her mother screaming at her that she had caused it, that she was an evil child. Even as Esther cried and tried to hide somehow the whole thing seemed grotesquely inevitable. It was then she learned no one can escape their fate, not her and not her father._

The sharp sting of a slap felt so real that it knocked the nightmare of her snarling mother out of her mind and filled it with the bright afternoon light. Sweat covered her body as Esther sat up, incredibly nauseous from the lingering smell of her mother's cooking, and ran to the bathroom to throw up.

Sitting on the cold bathroom floor she could not help but think the tiles felt similar to the Spanish tiles in the house she lived in all those years ago, the same cool uneven surface. Another wave of nausea hit and Esther vomited bile until she was utterly empty. Wiping her mouth on some toilet paper she screwed her eyes shut and reminded herself that that little girl died a long time ago, that something stronger came out of the waters.

After a long shower the strain began to unknot from her shoulders. Clean, she moved to the living room to watch some television, snacking on bread to settle her stomach. The news was full of condemnation for Batman and his refusal to step forward and reveal himself to stop the Joker killings. The whole thing was absurd and just went to show how off-kilter the city was. Esther may not have agreed with the long term benefits of Batman's more or less overly tame methods but it was unmistakable that the man was trying to do good... and here the city was turning on him in just a few days over less than a dozen murders. Hell, the man probably prevented a dozen murders a night just showing his face in the more dangerous hoods.

And why exactly did the Joker want to know who Batman was? Clearly the citizens of Gotham were incredibly stupid if they thought unmasking their vigilante would stop a man like him. No, he was up to something far more profound.

Jarred out of deep thought by rough knocking at her front door Esther cursed. Visitors were not welcome there. When the banging did not ease up but only grew more demanding she got up and began to unlatch lock, leaving the chain connected so that the door could not open more than a few inches. In the crack she found none other than Detective Ramirez.

A huge obnoxious yawn distorted the question, "Can I help you Detective?"

Adjusting the weight of her purse the woman met her eyes and stated plainly, "I have been tasked with notifying you that your police escort is no longer required."

"And you couldn't just call?"

"No," Ramirez looked just as irritated as Esther felt. "Lieutenant Gordon wanted me to personally assure you we do not think you are in danger."

Shutting the door just enough to slide the chain free Esther stood in full view of the detective. Ramirez continued, digging through her purse as she muttered, "If you need anything you can call me directly."

The card was handed over and Esther took the woman's hand in an awkward handshake, freezing at what bubbled at the surface of her mind. So much was there whirling in detective Ramirez's psyche, the bust that arrested every known gangster the cops could find in Gotham only the afternoon before... over half of the city's underbelly caught in a clever plan and, as Gordon's pet rookie, Ramirez had been there right at the forefront.

Esther could see it all, Ramirez's respect for Commissioner Gordon even as she was working in the dark to undermine the great man's effort, her fear of just how easy it had been to betray her mentor, and relief to know her mother's medical bills would be paid now that Maroni needed her more than ever.

With her previous day spent in preparation for the masquerade Esther had missed the media frenzy, only switching on the tube briefly when she pulled on her dress to witness the breaking news of the Joker's torture of a Batman look alike. Surprised something so major had slipped past her Esther gripped the rookie's hand tighter and pull the shocked woman a step or two closer, invading deeper into her memories.

Every detail was absorbed, every last fact Esther could dig up as Ramirez stared with wide brown eyes at the figure that suddenly seemed inhuman before her. She could not move in those strange short seconds but the detective wanted to run... and she didn't know why. When Esther had absorbed every last detail she could find her fingers eased up their relentless grasp and smiling politely Esther looked the detective dead in the eye... and found the baby-faced woman's cocky self-confidence replaced with thinly veiled fear.

"It was good of you to stop by and put me at ease Detective Ramirez," Esther complemented grinning like a shark. "Please let your boss know I am grateful for all the attention I have received." The softness left her voice though the smile remained. "And I feel far safer knowing dedicated officers like you are watching over me."

The way the detective snatched back her hand and held it to her body as she backed away was not missed. Esther offered a wink before shutting the door in the open mouthed detective's face. She would not see Ramirez again.

Taking a seat on the couch Esther settled her body, closed her eyes, and let her mind open in a replay of all she had just seen. Ramirez had hard facts, she also had retained rumors only officers on the inside would know. The mob was in an uproar, more than half of the city's gangsters in lockup... with Harvey Dent, Gotham's new District Attorney credited for the arrests.

The man had certainly hit the ground running. In office less than three months and he had gangland running scared. Chewing her lip Esther wondered about Gotham's media darling.

Batman had been lurking around the city for a little over a year, and though he had made the gangsters more cautious he had done little to really curb the influence the truly powerful wielded in the city. There was too much corruption, too many people on the inside prepared to undo most of his efforts... and the fool never killed the men he captured. Almost everyone walked free eventually and the game started all over again. And then Harvey Dent came into play, his face plastered all over the city, loved by the public... a hero... and he fearlessly took on the mob in broad daylight. Still going strong not even two weeks after the Italian crime boss Salvatore Maroni's man had tried to shoot the D.A. in front of an entire courtroom of witnesses. Dent had balls.

It was an unspoken fact that Batman worked with the Gotham Police, hell, his signal sat atop the Major Crimes Unit. Though Ramirez had not witnessed it she was quite certain that this little coup was the work of Dent, Gordon, and Batman together... that Batman himself had been the one to drag Lau back from Hong Kong when word got out that the powerful businessman with sketchy mafia connections was wanted for questioning. But there was so much more going on that Esther could not see... and suddenly it seemed very important to find out the details.

When her cell phone unexpectedly rang out like a loud clamor Esther almost jumped. Icy blue eyes flashed open and reached for the noisy machine to see the Caller ID display her assistant Madeline's name.

"Sorry to call you on the weekend Ms. Cain but Mary Heathrow just phoned. There is a fundraiser for Harvey Dent this evening and she requested that you attend. Claimed she could use your support… and checkbook."

It could not be a coincidence. Esther accepted the invitation immediately, eager to see just what she would find when she shook the hand of Gotham's new District Attorney personally.

* * *

The interior of the Wayne Foundation building with its startling architecture was surprisingly beautiful to Esther. Stopping for a moment to take in the view, the heels of her pricy stilettos clicked against the shining floors as her body turned in a circle to see the lobby in its entirety. Severe in its lack of embellishment yet highly polished, the foyer was edgy, stark... everything composed of black marble giving the optical illusion that the entry was vast and unending.

With the majority of the massive black skyscraper dedicated to research labs and the different philanthropic work under the Wayne Corporation umbrella, it was not an address she had entered before. In fact Bruce Wayne had only moved into the Penthouse up top about a year ago after a fire destroyed Wayne Manor out in the palisades... and he had not bought whatever art might be upstairs from her.

Aware that the armed security guards were smirking at her obvious awestruck stillness she began to feel foolish and wondered just how many women had come through that door over the last year and gaped just as she just had. Ignoring the trio of men she stepped toward the private elevator where a large sign leaned on an easel, directing guests toward the fundraiser. During the long ride up Esther used the solitude to check her lipstick and smooth back any stray wisps of hair that had escaped the simple twist she'd thrown together.

Dent had to be the mobs' prime target and it seemed a very odd time to have a private event of this nature; it was also incredibly cheeky and brave... a big fuck you to the crime lords. For that reason alone Esther had come to this party armed. Under the clingy black cocktail dress two of her best blades hid strapped to her thighs, the ruched fabric concealing the knives perfectly.

The elevator dinged and opened into the opulent open floor plan of Bruce Wayne's home. Murmurs of polite conversation filled the air as guest mingled, sipping champagne, and feeling self-satisfied in the grandeur. When an elderly gentleman bearing a tray offered her a glass Esther took it with a grateful smile... it had been one hell of a day and a drink was just what the doctor ordered.

She should have been at the party forty minutes ago but as she was about to hail a cab a vision had come to her so grotesque in its details that she had not even blinked before she turned to go back into the Rushmore and grab what she would need to do her duty. Besides, it was not often a serial killer of such notoriety was called for judgment at her hands...

His name was Arnold and he was new to her city but not new to his game. She watched in silence as the vision showed him walk right through the front door of a family sitting for dinner. It was the killer's flagrant entry that made the young father hesitate before standing to confront the intruder... that and the fact that Arnold looked like a regular Joe. In those short distracted seconds the knife would come out and a small boy, no older than four, would be gutted as Arnold laughed. The redheaded mother would scream and lunge forward to automatically try to hold in the spilling intestines of her boy, unaware there was no saving him from such an injury. In that time Arnold would stab dear old dad right in the heart.

It was the mother he would take his time with, carving her up as he smiled innocently, glorying in the scene he would set... there was a reason the media called him the Ventriloquist. Each body would be segmented, the severed limbs displayed in a caricature of a domestic scene... scenes Arnold would take hours arranging to tell his story. When it was finished he always took a trophy... a family portrait where the smiling faces of his victims would remind him of his triumph, happy to take it home to hang next to the eight other family portraits he had collected over the years.

Standing in a small side alley across from the middleclass Gotham neighborhood Esther watched the family gather at their table, wondered what it must have been like to be a part of something that looked so effortless. They smiled, all of them... and it was honest. Confused at the weird feeling that made her clench her gut Esther looked away and reached for the chosen weapon for her prey.

Arnold was right on time, walked past her completely oblivious that he shared the narrow alley. Slipping up behind him Esther let her masked lips brush his ear as the seductive tones of her judgment brushed over him. "Evening Ventriloquist."

He actually grinned right before her blade sliced his throat in a quick burst of movement. The blend of surprise and creepy elation as his eyes turned toward his hooded reaper did nothing to Esther... she felt nothing except a flash of disappointment she did not have more time to make his death truly memorable. Arnold Wesker deserved a far more... lengthy end.

After her blades had been wiped clean Esther inadvertently glanced up again at the happy family as they enjoyed their dinner and frowned, the odd unwelcome sensation coming back in full force. The corpse was left to molder where eventually the stink of decomposition would draw attention and Esther slunk back to the shadows, eager to leave the scene and get to Harvey Dent's fundraiser.

Now, with champagne pressed to her lips she swallowed and sighed, lightening up considerably and oblivious to the butler's recognition as he watched her with a raised eyebrow. He heard a woman call her name and the blonde smiled warmly, moving at once toward the summons to be greeted by a petite member of Bruce Wayne's workforce... Mary Heathrow.

The woman lost Alfred's attention when the elevator opened again and the man of the hour walked in. Harvey Dent, looking incredibly uncomfortable with Rachel Dawes bright and gently teasing at his side scanned the room of Gotham elite. When the girl Alfred had known since she was less than knee high wandered off into the crowd, leaving her nervous boyfriend behind, Alfred approached with a friendly smile and offered a drink.

Across the room Mary and Esther found a quiet corner and began to gossip.

"You know Esther, Mr. Wayne came by my office in person a few days ago to request a specific piece for the lobby from the portfolio you had messengered over..." Mary was narrowing her eyes playfully, her sleek bob bouncing ever so slightly. "How did the lunch go?"

After a deep breath and an expression that made it clear it did not go well Esther admitted, "I basically told him to go to hell."

Mary burst out laughing, "I bet you did." Waving at an approaching brunette she mumbled, "Ixnay on the Ayne-way," then smiled brightly and reached out a hand to the beautiful woman. "Hi Rachel!"

"God Mary I am so glad to see you!" Rachel Dawes embraced Mary's far shorter stature in a warm hug.

"Have you met Esther Cain?" Mary, ever the socialite gestured toward the blonde.

Esther offered a hand and a professional smile. The brunette was far warmer, welcoming her and smiling sincerely. "Any friend of Mary's is a friend of mine. Nice to meet you Esther."

Before Esther had the chance to get a good feel of Rachel a racket kicked up on the balcony. It was impossible to miss the completely unamused expression on Rachel's face when the room's attention went to the descending chopper where the host of the party stepped out with a trio of women in brightly colored complementary cocktail dresses... the whole thing a show for the masses.

"You have got to be kidding me..." It was Esther's thought though spoken aloud by the irritated brunette at her side.

All eyes turned to the stupidly smiling playboy as he welcomed everyone to the party, singling out Rachel Dawes to step forward for his speech. Icy blue eyes went to the face of Bruce's so called oldest friend to see her standing in a posture that was anything but friendly. Despite Wayne's little show it was Rachel Dawes who had Esther's complete attention.

There was something about her, a strong character and determination that Esther admired at once... but there was something more... a darkness was descending on the woman, the same darkness Esther had seen on countless others... and it was clear that no matter how wonderful Rachel may or may not be her number was up. She was going to die... soon... and there was nothing that could change her fate.

The fiasco with Wayne ended and the music started again, conversation surged and everything was as it should be. Edging closer to Harvey, Esther left Mary deep in conversation with some older man she did not recognize and tried to close the distance toward the District Attorney. She watched him like a hawk as he stood alone and looked for Rachel. Esther had to admit, for a man willing to take on the entirety of Gotham's dark side he was certainly nervous surrounded by privileged society snobs. It would have been almost cute if it wasn't so ridiculous.

"Esther Cain?" Warmth brushed her forearm and Esther looked down at the tan hand of Bruce Wayne. "I did not know you were on the guest list." He sounded shocked and at once Esther could not help but be offended.

Stopping in her tracks she turned to face the greater height of the host. Before she could open her mouth with a reply he recognized just how rude he had sounded and offered, "That came out wrong. I am just pleased to see you is all. Welcome."

Bruce's three dates were still linked to his arms and Esther found the snarky retort stuck behind her instant amusement. He looked ridiculous; fighting to not just outright laugh at him, Esther pressed her red lips together and tried to curb the twitch at the corner of her mouth. Everything about it was pathetic... losing the battle she just let herself giggle as she glanced to a nearby window and tried to hold it together. At length she was finally able to spit out, "Good evening Bruce," she cleared her throat, "ladies."

A brilliant smile was locked on his face but Esther could see clearly that he knew she was laughing at him. "Are you a fan of our District Attorney?"

"If he is half the man they say he is then," Esther put a hand over her heart and pledged impishly, "yes, I believe in Harvey Dent."

After politely telling his dates to go have a drink at the bar Bruce looked at the smirking Esther Cain and lost a portion of the falseness from his demeanor.

"Do you order them from a catalog?" She just could not help herself and had to poke fun as the beautiful women walked away, "They are perfectly matched, even their clothes."

"Listen Esther..."

She was laughing at him again, openly and without reservation.

He scowled. "It's not that funny."

"Oh yes, it really is." Grinning she offered a truce of sorts. "I have not laughed that hard in ages... and considering how exceptionally awful my day has been I probably should be thanking you for making me smile."

"Look," Bruce took a small step closer and frowned.

Glancing past him Esther teased again, "I should warn you that your women are on their way back." Her eyes went over to where Harvey was shaking the hands of those who had come to support him. "Ah, there is the man I came to see. Have a good evening Bruce... Great party."

Before he could argue his trio of dates had surrounded him, all vying for attention and unhappy with the retreating blonde in the fuck me heels. Brushing them off he went to the balcony for some air, scowling as he dumped the glass of champagne one of the faceless trio had brought him.

Inside Esther finally closed in on her prey. Stretching forward a hand she offered, "I wanted to shake the hand of Gotham's champion of justice. I appreciate all you are doing for our city Mr. Dent."

Harvey's hand was warm and solid in hers. He seemed a bit more relaxed as he smiled back, oblivious to the fingers scratching at his thoughts. Minds like his were tricky, hard to navigate but even so Esther saw what she was hoping for... Dent was determined and unshakeable... God help those who stood in his way. Even more than all of that Esther saw his affection for Rachel Dawes and knowing Rachel's fate could not help but pity a man so in love.

As if sensing her thoughts the handsome District Attorney looked past her toward the balcony and frowned lightly. Releasing his hand Esther stepped aside and peeked at what had caught Harvey's attention. Rachel was outside standing close to Bruce, speaking to him softly and looking a little lost.

"Excuse me." Harvey left the circle of constituents and made his way after his woman... never having asked her name, in fact, Esther could see that he had already forgotten her face.

Finding Mary in the crowd was simple, and as the sun went down the two women snickered in the corner while enjoying the breathtaking view. Mrs. Heathrow had so many amusing stories that circulated around Wayne Enterprises... most of them about Bruce and how he was infamous for being found sleeping around the office... and not the sleeping as in sex with coworkers... actually snoozing. They had found him three times that week tucked away in office chairs or passed out at the conference room table in the middle of a meeting. It pretty much summed up Esther's original opinion of his irresponsibility and was freaking hilarious.

It was the reflection in the floor to ceiling window that caught her attention first, a sudden warning that buzzed in the air forcing her eyes up before the sound of a shotgun firing made the guests yelp and back away from the intruding purple menace and the group of men who had accompanied him to the party.

"Good evening ladies and gentle-men. WE are tonight's entertainment; just one question... where is Harvey Dent?"

Esther kept her back to him, watched him in the glass as the Joker terrorized the startled guests. On and on he asked the same question in various alterations, intimidating with aptitude, touching those who did not want to be touched, invading personal space as his voice sounded both disinterested and violent... until one man spoke up and woke the beast. That's when Esther slowly turned, pushing Mary behind her.

A gentleman in his sixties tried to stand up to a man he saw as little more than a punk. "We're not intimidated by thugs."

"You remind me of my father." A blade flashed between the lips of the grey haired gentleman whose bravado had disappeared and was replaced with wide eyed fear. "I _HATED_ my father."

Before the slice could be made a voice rang out. "Okay, stop."

Rachel had the Joker's full attention and that shadow Esther had seen hovering over the woman was now like a thick blanket. Rachel would die and the Joker would kill her... but not yet.

Captivated Esther watched the showdown, the bravery of Harvey Dent's girlfriend as the Joker gripped her face and held the knife so close a sneeze would break skin. Her captor was caught up in a most likely fictional, though passionately told, story of his wife. How she had been disfigured and his love for her so great he sliced a permanent smile on his face to please her, to show solidarity... and how she broke his heart and left when he was no longer beautiful to her... all of this chatter mesmerizing the crowd and, to a point, the woman in his grasp. Ending on a high note the Joker smiled a full Cheshire grin and said, "Now I see the funny side. Now I'm always smiling."

It was there Rachel showed her mettle... she wrenched up her knee and kicked the Joker right between the legs. It did nothing more than make him offer a small oomph and a far more satisfied chuckle of pleasure. As he straightened, his voice was a purr almost sexual in nature, "A little fight in you... I like that."

"Then you're gonna love me!"

The blur of black came from the shadows with an impressive speed. Rachel backed away panting and watched her savior manage the greater number of attackers with an expression that made it clear she wanted to help him. That she had faith in him.

It was the first time Esther had seen Batman and watching with a keen eye it was clear the man was highly trained yet visceral. Disarming and breaking limbs was slowing the onslaught but though the crowd seemed impressed Esther could not help but grit her teeth in frustration. It was clear he knew many of the same techniques she did but Batman flat out squandered lovely movement. So many openings had been apparent where it would have been easy to slaughter his attackers and assure his enemies defeat, so many wasted opportunities that only gave the Joker the upper hand. Esther would have slaughtered them in a heartbeat had their roles been reversed. She would have won easily…

When a blade slide out the tip of the Joker's brown loafer the Clown continued a series of kicks right at Batman's gut, highlighting the violence with a feral grunt. Black armor prevented any serious wounds and with a twist of his body Batman dislocated the shoulders of the goon grasping him from behind before focusing his momentum forward, knocking the Joker down to the floor. Scrambling from his knees the Clown reached for a discarded gun lost by one of his minions sometime during the battle. Scars bending up in focused excitement he reached for Rachel Dawes, yanking her before his body.

Knocking back the last of his attackers Batman looked up and froze, suddenly still at the sight of Rachel in danger. "Drop the gun."

"Oh, sure," the Joker's voice crooned deceptively playful as he gestured with the firearm, enticing his toy to react. "You just take off your little mask and show us all who you really are. hmmm" pressing his lips together the Joker gripped the squirming woman, pointing the barrel behind him and fired, shattering the window in a rain of glass. Spinning around he held Rachel dangling over the precipice, the woman trying desperately to find her balance in her high heeled shoes.

The low growl sounded apprehensive as Batman demanded, "Let her go."

Brows together at the stupidity of the request the Joker mocked, "Very poor choice of words," then did exactly what the masked man requested. Once his hand opened, fingers spread wide, the Joker cackled darkly, honestly amused... and laughed twice as hard when Batman dove out the window after the woman slipping down the slick glass roof.

Together they fell over the edge and everyone at the party was breathless as the woman's screams continued through the fall. With Mary pressed between her and the glass, Esther glanced over her shoulder and watched the pair sail down toward the asphalt, Batman's cape stiff in the wind like a one winged bird. When they crashed into the roof of a taxi from the great height it was difficult to see if they had survived.

The groans of the Joker's wounded goons made Esther's icy blue eyes dart in her skull toward the sound. The Clown Prince of Crime ignored the mess, adjusted his lapels and loudly cracked his neck with a pleasured sigh. Turning to assess the damage he lifted his gun and shot any goon too wounded to retreat. With their numbers reduced by two the party moved toward the elevator without a soul stepping forward to stop them. As the elevator doors were closing a self-satisfied smirk came to the Joker's lips as his chin lowered toward his chest. Black eyes locked right on her, making it clear he had known she was there the entire time... at the last second he gave her a dangerous smile and dramatic wink.

* * *

**I just had a blast reworking this chapter. So much is different and so many more details are layered in. I really hope you enjoyed it and I can't wait to hear your thoughts. Please review.**

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	5. Chapter 5

**Tons of hugs for mithrabear for beta reading and just being awesome in general. Shout out to my lovely reviewers: mithrabear, hannahhobnob, and DarkPhoenix-24**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

With the clowns gone it took the startled party guests a moment to find their voices, everyone looking as if they expected the two dead goons lying in a pool of blood to just leap up and start to dance. The speed that the room went from absolute silence to pandemonium was almost laughable. With Mary pressed to her side, Esther moved with the crowd toward the emergency exit, climbed down the floors of stairs, caught in the masses and not entirely sure if the Joker had planted a bomb somewhere in the building.

It was clear she was not the only person who had considered that possibility as the push and pull of the mob grew frantic. As they approached the lower levels the sounds of sirens rang over the din of the footsteps and hysterics. By the time Esther and Mary made it to the lobby police were already swarming in. It was a madhouse.

Pulling Mary through the throng Esther pushed her way outside, eyes landing on the crushed taxi that had broken Batman and Rachel's fall. The assistant district attorney was wrapped in a blanket and sheltered by police, though from her posture the woman seemed cool and collected, unlike Mary who was sobbing to the point Esther was mildly disgusted.

After packing her friend off in a taxi Esther got the hell out of there. Tense from all the unwelcome drama she needed to unwind. More so, Esther wanted answers... and knew just where the darker rumors were traded around the city.

She wasted no time once back at the Rushmore and headed straight for her secret path, reaching her dock house in no time. Once inside, the transformation began. The sexy cocktail dress was stripped away to be replaced with the shapeless clothing of her disguise. Baggy stained cargo pants covered her legs and under a dark hoodie, a Neoprene bullet proof vest protected her chest and stomach. Knives were placed in pockets, slipped in her motorcycle boots, and tucked in places most people would not expect to find a blade. Esther checked to make sure her XD9 was fully loaded the gun was holstered at her ribs.

All makeup was removed and in its place a muddy paint was smeared over her face, forearms, neck... anywhere that would show, concealing her face and making her look unwashed and repellent. Brown contacts concealed her unique eye color and the pièce de résistance, a reinforced ratty dreadlocked brown wig was fit snugly against her skull. Under the mangy hair a helmet was formed by metal plates, protecting her from her upper neck to just above her eyebrows. Hidden under full fringe bangs, a large metal band that lay across her brow dotted with several menacing razor-sharp spikes… a deadly concealed weapon to anyone dumb enough to get close.

Pulling an overlarge faded trench coat around her shoulders she looked mannish and entirely unappealing. Worn gloves concealed the slender fingers that reached for the door to her home and where a polished socialite had arrived and an androgynous totally unremarkable creature departed.

A few hundred dollars burned a hole in her pocket. With a smirk, Esther jumped on the motorcycle hidden nearby and set off toward the Narrows.

* * *

Pulling in a deep drag from the cigarette dangling from his lips, Nolan cursed the foulest language he knew, hating the slippery blonde woman the Joker had ordered him to stalk. He was the best - spent most of his years as the number one guy the mobsters of Gotham hired when they needed someone shadowed... but that bitch kept disappearing no matter how close he trailed.

He had followed her home from work, waited outside her apartment, practically at her door and somehow she ended up across town at Harvey Dent's fundraiser... and his new boss had not been pleased. Regretting ever hearing the moniker, the Joker, Nolan took another hit of nicotine and thought about just skipping town. The clown was batshit crazy and his goons were fucking nuts but the Joker paid such a ridiculous amount that the temptation had overshadowed his common sense.

And the crazy man who painted his face like a freakish clown and eviscerated folks for kicks was pissed off at him. Nolan had only just made it to the Wayne Foundation building as his prey was leaving, practically had a heart attack that he might have let her slip through his fingers again. Shit, it had been a nerve wracking day... then he got lucky. After ditching the cigarette outside Nolan slunk down to the Rushmore's basement to check the tap on her landline and the little bitch appeared. She had not seen him and a sneer twisted his scruffy face as he watched her slip past him and disappear. It was not long before he found the manhole and followed the tire tracks left in the dust. He ran, ran like he was not an overweight chain smoker, ran like the Joker himself was behind him in that dark tunnel, knife in hand to carve up his face. Near to puking from the exertion he thanked the stars when after what felt like miles he found the dirt bike, engine still warm, parked next to a ladder.

What he found above ground made him pause. A forgotten corner of Gotham jutting out in the docks, everything crumbling and silent as a ghost town. A maze of abandoned buildings edged up against the dirty waters of the Gotham River, unwelcoming in their derelict age-worn greys. Ghosting up to get a bird's-eye view Nolan climbed the concrete skeleton of a long abandoned warehouse, scanning all that could be seen and got a peak of what the witch had hidden away. It was a dumpy house sandwiched between two buildings that both looked near collapse... all hidden behind a wall too high to climb. Everything was a façade, one big mask to conceal her little hide away.

At his vantage he could only glimpse a sliver of what hid below but got enough of an eyeful to see light shining from one window where the blonde stood, half naked, and in the process of becoming something else. Snapping photos with his cellphone, he watched, intrigued as the woman left. The nearby sounds of a motorcycle revved to life and Nolan saw the blur of her bike heading north, straight for the Narrows.

When his cigarette burned out, Nolan let the butt drop from his lips and smashed it out with a toe as he dialed the Joker. "I found her boss. The woman has a little shack at the docks. She ditched her party clothes and pulled on something a bit less interesting. She just left on a bike, based on the way she is dressed I would bet my life she is going to skulk around the Narrows. I'm texting a photo."

The image was received and the Joker let out a long, "Ewwwwwww," at her appearance. His voice grew clowny when he asked, "The Narrows you say?" then dropped low and menacing, "And you would _bet your life _on it?"

What the fuck was wrong with him? Nolan instantly regretted his word choice as he swallowed thickly and barely managed a, "yeah."

"Goooood," the Joker purred. "Seeing how you have lost her three times now it would be awfully... funny... if you happened to be wrong."

Even though the man was on a phone clear across the city Nolan felt as if the Joker had just wrapped the leather of his purple gloved fingers around his throat. Silent, the hand that held the cellphone to his ear shook as Nolan waited and heard nothing but breathing on the other end of the line. He imagined it then, those hideous scars dripping red slowly crawling up the Joker's face as he grinned at his fear, knew that his boss was fingering the very knife he planned to kill him with if he was wrong.

"The Narrows," Nolan stupidly said as if praying that some higher power would place her there.

"I guess we'll see..." The evil smile was definitely in his voice as the Joker proclaimed loudly to the room. "Melvin, Tommy... We're gonna go have some fun."

Tommy's high pitched giggle sounded in the phone before the Joker hung up, leaving Nolan just about to piss himself.

* * *

With her motorcycle parked in the shadows of a rundown apartment building near the edge of the Narrows, Esther crossed into the dark neglected armpit of Gotham. The summertime breeze that blew gently over the trash strewn streets smelled of piss, which was hardly surprising considering many people actually did piss on the sidewalk. In fact, she was looking at a drunken man doing that very act not ten feet away.

Walking with a hunch Esther knew how to shift through the locals in a way that garnered no attention. She looked like one of them, moved like one of them, and knew every inch of the Narrows grid so intimately she could tell you what the dirt tasted like street by street. Strolling towards the center of the island she passed the crumbling walls of the old Arkham Asylum, tracing her gloved fingers over the cracks. It had only been a little over a year since the inmates had been set loose but the place had a strange vibration to it, the gravel courtyards and watchtowers contaminated with unsettling energy as if stained in blood. The locals tended to avoid the Asylum and the streets around it as if the crazies were still leaking out.

The streetlight above her flickered, the florescent bulb on its last leg as she stopped for a moment to lean against the graffiti covered wall at her back. Huge cockroaches were scampering, most heading toward a drying pool of vomit near her feet. Unconcerned with the filth, Esther studied the dark, found herself quite alone, and glanced up to find a heavy waning moon. It was beautiful... a familiar slice of light that she had found so many times in that hell. A fond smile came to her lip as Esther thought back to the beautiful red haired pixie... her Natalie... and recalled all the nights as children they had slept on Narrows's rooftop to be as close as possible to the moon and as far as possible from the grime below them.

They had been happy there.

Instant dark fury burned in her at the thought of what had happened, the black fate that befell her friend all those years ago. Pushing up from the wall she stepped out of the circle of flickering light and swore again that someday the last living person responsible for taking her Natalie would die... screaming and begging for mercy just as she had.

An urge to move pulled her up from that empty place and like a string attached to her sternum something tugged her forward into the bowels of the Narrows, further into darkness. Silent steps carried her through neighborhoods so infamous there was hardly a day a chalk outline did not decorate the sidewalk. One more turn and Esther found what she was looking for... a little girl hardly bigger than Natalie had been the first time they had met.

The child was frightened, and for good reason. Four grown men surrounded her, closing in on their prey as the child cowered, her dark eyes filled with terror.

One man reached for her hair, letting it run through his fingers to incite her fear. Thin lips pulled back from broken teeth in a wolfish smile. "Come here pretty one, we won't hurt you."

Wiping her head around to free her hair, the little girl screeched, "LEAVE ME ALONE!"

As Esther eased closer, she took in the trail of tear marks over grimy cheeks, saw the almost clean girly pink of the child's sweater and knew that she had not been in the Narrows long. On instinct Esther reached for the butterfly knife in her boot as the future played before her eyes. The men were drunk, horny, and vile. The one who continued to touch the little one's hair would rape her first as the others jeered and held her down. She would scream, a lot, and not a soul living in the housing right behind her would do a thing. After each had taken their turns, the fat one would beat her, stomping down with the heavy steel-toed boots until three of her teeth broke and the bones of her face were damaged beyond any point of repair.

The men continued to circle and when the fat fucker had his back to her Esther flipped open the knife in her hand. Throwing it with precision the blade lodged into the fat man's neck, hilt deep between his vertebrae. The blade struck true and severed his spine. As the body lurched then sagged she moved like death toward his distracted companions, chuckling silently at the shriek his stringy haired friend let lose when he found the blade jutting from the fresh corpse. The sound was short lived as Esther materialized from the darkness with her fist jabbing powerfully into the man's scrawny neck. He reeled forward and found her switchblade waiting. A second later it was thrust into his eye socket and left buried deep as his shocked hands tried to reach for it, failed, and the convulsions began.

There was something about the expression that came to a man's face in those seconds once they realize a knife was in their skull, that they understood they were going to die... that there was nothing that could be done to save them. Viewing it was always was oddly appealing to Esther. Merciless eyes absorbed the moment, even as her leg shot back, landing firmly in the gut of the third man charging toward her. He fell, the wind stolen from his body, and curled up on himself as he fought for air.

The last man standing looked at her as if facing the devil and froze, too stupid to fight back. With an evil smirk she walked right to him, cradled his face in her hands, and brought her armored forehead down in a vicious headbutt, crushing in his skill with a satisfying crunch. Once his eyes rolled back in his ruined skull Esther put a finger on his chest and pushed just enough to let gravity finish the job. He fell like a tree, bouncing just a little on the pavement.

"Looks like it's just you and me now Pete..." She cocked her head toward the last of her prey, chuckling as he scrambled to sit up.

A face grown craggy from years of drug use shot up to see just who had called his name. "I... I don't know you."

Leaning down Esther yanked her switchblade from his dead friend's eye socket, all the while holding Pete's eyes with the intensity of her gaze. Eye matter dripped from the blade as she closed the distance and crouched low before the man.

"Oh, you don't Pete. You reallllly don't," she growled, gloved hand darting forward to grab him by the hair.

He was crying softly in pathetic little mewls, kicking his legs in an attempted to back away from her. A smile, feral in nature, spread her lips as she pulled him closer. He was a Narrows lifer, the son of a hooker and an absolute prick, even as a boy. "I never did like you Pete."

Before he could speak the knife carved into the soft flesh of his neck, cutting deep and messy in a way that gave the most pain and terror, a way that let the victim hear the grating of severed flesh. He fell to the side and tried to hold the jagged skin of his neck together, to keep the blood inside as Esther stood. Twisting her head around to make certain the frozen little girl was paying attention, Esther found her sobbing, terrified as her assailant gurgle and breathe his last breath.

Too frightened to run, huge brown eyes rimmed in a thick fringe of wet lashes, the child could not look away. Esther gathered her weapons, wiped her knives clean, and stood to face the little girl. Kneeling so they were eye level, Esther put a hand to the girl's shoulder and used a finger to raise her chin.

Esther's voice was hard as she spat, "What is your name girl?" emphasizing the girl as if it were disgusting.

"Sarah."

"And how does a little girl like you find the Narrows hmmm? Is it better than the home you ran away from? Do you really think you will survive here?"

The child struggled to find the words, "I have nowhere to go."

"Then let me give you a word of advice. Little homeless _girls_ cannot survive this place. You will be raped, beaten, and most likely forced into prostitution. Little girls in pink sweaters die here every day." Esther stood tall, growing like a monster.

Before the child could bolt, Esther snatched up tufts of the girl's long hair and began to hack it off, slicing all her long dirty black locks away. Shorn and shocked the child did not resist when Esther ripped off her pink sweater and tossed it aside like garbage.

The next time she spoke, the modulation of her tone was soft and soothing as she explained, "Now, _Michael_... little scabby boys who move quickly and keep quiet might survive the Narrows."

Sarah looked up, understanding.

After quickly poking through the pockets of the dead men Esther gathered all their money and two serviceable knives. Michael still stood there, a little choppy haired boy and watched in awe as the stranger pressed money and two weapons into her pockets.

Leaning down Esther whispered with a smile the secrets of the future, "If you are smart you will survive, become a teacher, and marry a kind butcher named George... together you will have a little boy... and name him _Michael_ in remembrance of the night a demon saved you." Standing, Esther turned the girl toward the road and gave her final instructions, "Run down this street five blocks. Talk to no one, don't look at anyone. There is a church on the west side of the road. Knock on the door and ask for Sister Patrice…" the hand on the child's shoulder gripped her boney frame to the point of pain. "And if I ever see you on the streets at night in the Narrows again I will peel the skin from your bones."

Shoving the dirty little waif, Esther flung her toward the path of the church and Michael ran as if the devil was at her tail. When the girl was out of sight and the sound of small footsteps gone, Esther looked down at her work, surveying the carnage with a bored expression. Spitting on the nearest corpse she sneered and walked away. Next stop the Stacked Deck.

* * *

It's a funny world when you can step right out of your car and the very woman you are looking for walks by not ten seconds later. Okay, maybe walks by was a strong description and maybe car was a more interesting way to describe a stolen ambulance but either way she was only about a block ahead... leaning against the old Arkham Asylum as if she had been waiting for him.

Sneering at the absolutely hideous getup she wore, he sucked his teeth and soaked her in. The flickering light caught her face in a strobe effect, each flash of illumination highlighting the subtleties of a different emotion: apathy, comfort, joy, sudden sorrow, fury, rage, resolve.

With Tommy and Melvin guarding the car the Joker was free to follow as she meandered through the most dangerous neighborhoods in the city, smirking at her apparent lack of fear... in fact she was almost defensive... like a wolf prowling around her den. It was clear the disguised blonde knew exactly where she was and had no hesitation about where she was going. Walking with her in the moonlight on her zigzag jaunt was a fun game. She ran and he skipped, she walked and he slithered. Once or twice he had snuck up close enough to touch her and bit his lower lip to keep from giggling. Just when he was about to reach out and drag her close, a change came over her. Fluidly she turned the corner and in a smooth motion reached into her boot. That is when the Joker practically fell over... she threw a knife, A KNIFE, right into the spine of some fat man.

Jaw dropped so low that if his scars had never healed it would have hung all the way down his neck the little demon rushed a group of men surrounding nothing of consequence. She was ruthless, maiming and killing spectacularly, knowing the soft spots, perfecting the right amount of pressure to slice exactly the way she wanted. The woman did not miss a beat and despite the blood all over the ground had hardly spilled a drop on the hideous clothing that hid her beauty.

A twitch came to one cheek and the Joker's tongue darted out to lick his scars, his breathing hard as he panted in excitement. Slipping back into the dark he watched, chin to his chest from under his brows. A crooked malicious grin twisted his face when the killer proved she was the cuddly sort... getting maternal with the urchin she had saved. Well, nobody's perfect.

A strange sort of buzz was in the night air around him as he watched her walk away from the massacre, untouched and unconcerned. The woman went north and the Joker scampered up the fire escape of a building nearest to watch her move through the grid right toward a place where a neon sign flashed in red: Stacked Deck.

Pursing his lips he pulled out his phone and dialed. The southern drawl of his slave asked like a good dog, "Yeah boss?"

"Looks like it's your lucky night. I want the two of you to go play some cards down at the Stacked Deck... make sure you are at the woman's table with the ugly clothes and ratty gross hair." His goons could tell that their boss was pleased by the way the words were purred and stretched. "Have. Fun."

Hanging up the phone with a snap the Joker moved toward the familiar smell of blood to inspect the woman's handiwork up close.

Body one: severed spinal cord between C3 and C4 vertebrae. Body two: crushed windpipe followed with stab wound to the left eye socket. Body three: slit throat... beautifully done, the edges ragged from a serrated blade. Body four: sloppy. The man might have had a crushed skull, his forehead might have resembled ketchup covered mashed potatoes... but he was still alive... sorta. Sure, he would die over the next few hours with or without medical attention but still. Feeling helpful the Joker pulled out the right blade for the job, leaned down, and carved a BIG smile on to the dying man's pus. Now, that was much better.

Standing back the Joker chuckled darkly, thoroughly impressed with their shared masterpiece. Suddenly bored he spun on his heels. On the walk back to the stolen ambulance he chewed his scars until the inside of his cheeks bleed. Abandoning his goons to find their own way back he took off at breakneck speed with the ambulance's sirens blaring, sideswiping parked cars for fun.

After leaving the stolen ambulance in the middle of a tight intersection, where it would conveniently block morning traffic, the Joker made his way the final blocks to the unpopulated niche where the woman had her den. Mentally congratulating the idiot Nolan on finally getting it right, the Joker found the warehouse his lackey was holed up in and climbed the steps, silent as a ghost to find the goon's perch.

When out of the darkness a large purple figure appeared beside him Nolan practically jumped out of his skin. Glancing down at the older man the Joker was anything but amused by the skittish coward.

"Uhh, evening Boss," muttered Nolan as he pointed out the shack and handed the Joker his binoculars.

Having spent hours in search of the best angle to assess the house, Nolan offered a view down into the small garden where between the fruit trees there was a peek into the dark kitchen window. A low pleased animal growl reverberated from the Joker's throat as he peered down at the little demon's den. She was a tidy thing with her pretty garden. His smile grew wide and full of mischievous pleasure when he found the rows of wildly blooming rose bushes. He wanted one, then changed his mind when his tongue slipped out over his lips and her remembered the taste of her... no, the roses were far more fun to steal from her in person. Practically an invitation if he ever did see one.

Frowning suddenly his mood turned angry... she had not been wearing them earlier at Harvey's little party. She had been polished and wrapped in the scraps of what women called a dress, all legs and bare skin with no purple flower in sight. Narrowing his eyes the Joker darted a glance at the useless Nolan. With a sudden desire for some alone time the Joker simply reached into his pocket, pulled out his Glock, and shot Nolan in the face.

The stocky corpse sunk to the floor in the cloud of gunpowder and brain matter. Grunting, the Joker simple turned around and began to wander in the dusty confined space. The crush of broken glass under his loafers set the rhythm of his frenzied pacing, scratchy music that matched well to his thoughts.

Judge Surillo blown to smithereens, Commissioner Lobe burned from the inside out... but Harvey. A low slow breath of air came from the Joker's nose as he recalled Batman... and how desperate the caped buffoon had leapt out the window after that annoying brunette. How predictable... damsel in distress... blah blah blah. At least it would be to kill her, to prove to his little toy that though Batman may have spoiled his fun that night the last laugh would be his. Not that he hadn't laughed earlier, the look in the flying rat's eyes when he dove out the window had been beyond comical.

Reaching for Nolan's cell phone the Joker grunted, flipping through the photo's the corpse had taken of Esther Cain. Candid shots of her comings and goings, a few that seemed mostly focused at her backside. It made him chuckle and he could not blame the man. There was one picture in particular where Nolan had captured her just as she looked up into the camera. It gave the illusion Esther's eyes were looking out of the photograph as if watching him, as if whispering secrets that only the two of them would know. He looked and looked, oddly still as he ignored the passage of time until the phone's battery died and her face was taken away.

Barking a growl at the machine he glanced up and in the hint of dawn found her walking through her garden. With a leer on his face he raised the binoculars.

* * *

Something about spending her evening hours in the smoky criminal-laden Stacked Deck always left Esther with a sense of calm. It was a seedy place where the chance of picking up an STD just by touching the tables was quite high. That's why she went there... unlike the flashy clubs where the higher ranks of Gotham's underground went to play, the Stacked Deck was for the drifters: the goons that did the grunt work... pickpockets, criminals... the lowest of the low.

Dressed as she did they took no notice of her, favoring the scantily clad hookers who plied their trade between hands of poker. All she had to do was relax, keep her ears open, and inevitably hear something either grumbled by the men or whispered in their thoughts. And god did she love poker!

The game itself was fascinating, came naturally to her, and offered her the chance to sit with wretched men and steal all their money. Point proven by the wad of cash in her pocket and the fresh collection of information plucked here and there throughout the night. It never failed to amaze her how loud mouthed the delinquents of the criminal world were when they sat down to play.

That night had been an especially excited crowd. A short blonde fellow in the corner started laughing, shouting to the room that the Joker had wacked Commissioner Loeb and Judge Surrillo earlier that night.

"Ya, poisoned the Commissioner in his own office they're sayin."

"What about the bitch judge?" asked a man with more teeth in his grin than lips.

"Bomb in her car. BOOM! Joker cards flying everywhere!"

Uproarious laughter followed toast after toast. The Joker was their icon, suddenly not just the scary whisper from only a few weeks before.

Much of the night the men cheered and echoed around the room, "Teach them to fuck with us!" and "Glad the ugly cunt is dead!"

They all seemed so certain, so very sure that nothing could bring them low. Blind faith was only for fools and Esther could see very clearly that things were not so simple as they seemed. The vigilante, the Batman, was not going to bow to a terrorist. He had shown the city time and again that perseverance was his specialty... and Esther knew from the memories stolen from Ramirez that there was no distance the man was unwilling to go. Shaking her head she had to remind herself that she was wrong, there was one line he would not cross. Batman never killed.

She thought back to the battle she had witness only hours before and wondered at the man. That gnawing disappointment returned. It was almost unfulfilling watching him waste his form and training simply to save a life of some worthless assailant. But where it had aggravated her it had clearly amused the Joker.

No matter what the men in the room toasting the clown thought of him, Esther knew that the Joker was not on their side. No, each day it grew clearer as his actions raised him higher. The Joker was using the underworld, turning it into some strange origami, making them all think he was acting as one of them. He wanted something and Esther was sure it was more than just power. Felt it must be something far more profound... as if he wanted the city's very soul. But it was not that simple or sophisticated and there was still so much Esther felt was scratching at her attention but just too far out of her reach to comprehend.

Organizing the flush in her hands, her mind was held at a state of openness, senseing the room to syphon through the bullshit for the far more crazy truths... and crazy was the word of the hour. The door opened and two fresh faces stepped out of the night.

Well, well well... if it wasn't the chatty officer Risata dressed in a faded tee shirt and dirty jeans... and he brought a little friend. The man at his side was so thin the angles of his face jutted out and drew the beholder's attention to huge unblinking brown eyes. They took in the room, both clearly comfortable with that type of crowd, and shuffled over to her table, sitting down to watch the rest of the hand.

Esther won, claimed the pile of cash, and darted a glance up and the new additions.

"Do you intend to play or are you here for the women?" Esther's head cocked toward the hookers at her side, her voice low and grainy.

In response Risata took out a small bundle of cash and asked to be dealt in. Observing them as she shuffled Esther began to mock, "Alright than, ah, Meathead... I will gladly take that off your hands."

His companion giggled and gained her unwavering attention. "And you Giggles... put up or get out."

The thin man swallowed, giggled nervously despite himself, and pulled out a handful of crumpled bills.

A wolfish smile crossed her lips and the cards flew around the table in practiced precision. Calling jokers wild, Esther set down the deck and let her mind saturate deeply into their thoughts. They had no idea who she was but she could see the unhinged quality of their minds. Meathead, though handsome and charming was mad as a hatter... and giggles, he was something else entirely. Both worked for the Joker and both just happened to be at her table. Why?

A creeping paranoia came over her as she measured the odds, tried to sense something more about it, and found nothing. In retribution she drew them in, let them enjoy her table, each winning a few hands before she sprung her trap and took every last cent they had. In the end she had to admit that it had actually been fun. Meathead was particularly good at cards, fun to play with, and full of flirty stories for the hookers at the table. His giggling friend who held his cards in long pretty fingers, on the other hand, was terrible... but massively entertaining to watch.

With her winnings Esther brought a round of whiskey for the table, threw back her victory shot, and left without so much as a goodbye.

It was earlier than she had intended to leave but with the chance that she had somehow allowed herself to be followed she needed black of night to disappear, to melt into the filth of the Narrows so perfectly only the man who had taught her the skill might have had the ability to find her... and he was dead.

When she opened her gate and crossed into her garden the first teasing light of dawn was only just beginning to show. Fingers lingering over her roses as she passed she smiled, contented as she always was when she breathed the scent of her flowers.

Once inside she found the kitchen quiet and cool. The layers of her disguise were peeled away, her body growing lighter as the weight of her ballistic vest was set aside. Arranging her various weapons on the counter and checking her loaded gun Esther rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck with a groan. This was her ritual. The Narrow's needed to be peeled away, scrubbed clean. All the clothing was immediately dumped into the washing machine before the foul smells that clung to her whenever she visited her old stomping grounds could contaminate the house. Naked, she walked through her kitchen, reached into the fridge, and snagged a cup of chocolate pudding.

By the time she had climbed to the top of the stairs she had inhaled the treat. A long hot shower scoured away the stink of smoke before she fell on to the old brass bed and let sleep drag her away. It was late afternoon before she cracked an eye. Turning on her back she stretched with a groan and forced herself to get up.

Shoving her arms through the sleeves of an old short terry cloth robe, she stumbled downstairs for tea. Once the hot brew was in her hands, Esther slouched into her favorite chair and looked out to her garden. The weather outside was glorious, perfect for an afternoon spent digging in the dirt and that's exactly what she intended to do. Vegetables were harvested, shrubbery pruned, and weeds ripped from the ground. When the work was done she sat on the porch and began the careful art of sharpening her knives. The slick sound of the blades as the whetstone passed over the metal set the tempo for the random notes she hummed. This was something she took great care in and found the act itself quite soothing.

Dinner came and went. Flipping on the news, Esther witched to _Gotham Tonight_. Mike Engel sat at his black polished desk and covered the recent events. The Joker's reign of terror had set the public near to panic, the death of Judge Surillo and Commissioner Loeb frightening the masses. Segments showed citizens being interview in the streets. The public outcry blamed Batman. Many begged him to remove his mask, very few sympathetic, and most demanding blood. She felt a little bad for him... after all, he must have been effected by it. He did what he did out of a need to do good and now he was, in a very perverse way, responsible for the deaths of several people.

The Joker was twisting him.

A little voice in the back of her mind whispered, _"Maybe he needs to be twisted..." _

Maybe he did. He was ultimately ineffective as he was. The men Batman captured eventually got out of Blackgate Penitentiary. Several times Esther had joked to herself that perhaps she was Gotham's true defender… She had probably permanently removed more criminals from the streets than he ever had. And, she did it quietly, without all the dramatics that Batman seemed so fond of.

The broadcast began to replay a speech given by Mayor Anthony Garcia earlier that day. He stood before city hall and made a statement urging Gotham Citizens to stay calm, assured the public that everything was under control. No matter how brave he looked as he stood there and did his duty Esther could see it in the Mayor's eyes, he too was scared... but he had something many of people of Gotham lacked. He had faith.

* * *

The Joker opened his eyes and grunted as he sat forward on the cold hard concrete beneath his stiff legs. This certainly had not been his first slumber party in an abandoned warehouse and would probably not be his last... but as usual, it was never quite as exciting as one would hope. Cracking his neck side to said he groaned, relishing each loud pop of bone and grinned.

The gaping hole in Nolan's skull had spilled out a mess onto the floor, the blood drying in a shape that looked kinda like a bunny. It made him think of the brunette... Harvey's little bunny. A purr growled from him as he stood, checked the time on his pocket watch, the moved to see just what another little bunny was doing. She had certainly looked like something fun to touch as she gave him that little peep show the night before. Wondering what she would do if he tried to pet her he laughed darkly... demon bunnies probably bite.

The Joker grinned wolfishly, faded red Glasgow smile twisted, yellow teeth flashing as he hummed. Lifting the binoculars to his eyes he looked closely through the kitchen window. Dressed in a robe she sat, drinking something in a mug as she looked at her garden from the window. Clearly in no rush, the woman took her time. She absentmindedly pushed her long light blond hair behind her ear and left the kitchen. The next hours passed with her in her garden, bent over her plants, and looking quite settled. During his extended surveillance the Joker made several calls. His men had orders to follow... lots and lots of drums of gasoline to prepare.

He was mid-sentence in his details when his jaw dropped, black eyes grew wide, and a low long groan ushered past ruined lips. Ending the call he felt his tongue dart out over his lips and starred, fascinated, as the woman sat on her porch and began to sharpen her knives... her pretty lips smiling in pleasure at the act.

He swallowed and could not look away.

Where Gotham was panic, rioting, and falling under his power, she was untouched, calm. She had not reacted at the Harvey Dent fundraiser, simply stood in the corner watching the battle between himself and the Bat-Man as if judging the quality of what she observed. Afterward the woman got dressed up in quite possibly the ugliest get-up on the planet, killed four men, well three technically, and then went to plays poker. No one came to meet her and from the report Melvin had given him, no one even seemed to care she was there. She just went out for fun.

He wanted to have fun. The Joker wanted to have fun very badly.

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**Thanks for reading! I will also be replacing the old chapters in the original version as I go. I did not feel it was fair to delete them since so many people favorited and followed that story. So if you would like to be an awesome person and review feel free to review there or here. THANKS!**

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